Holds audience with the lesser lights of heaven,
Then to its western bower
Descends in sudden darkness, as the flower
That at the fall of even
Shuts its bright eye, and yields to slumber's power.
Soon, with a dusky face,
Pensive and proud as an East Indian queen,
And with a solemn grace,
The moon ascends, and takes her royal place
In the fair evening scene,
While all the reverential stars, apace,
Take up their march through the cool fields of space,
And wed in the sweet day with night serene.
Ann Arbor, Mich., 1852.
POETRY.
The world's first singers sang heroic deeds
Of gods and men upon their flutelike reeds;
Sang to the chorded shell and tinkling lyre
Of themes that touched the Olympian heights with fire,
And made men godlike with divine desire.
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