Читать книгу Poems - Fanny Kemble - Страница 1

Oh, thou surpassing beauty! that dost live

Shrined in yon silent stream of glorious light!

Spirit of harmony! that through the vast

And cloud-embroidered canopy art spreading

Thy wings, that o’er our shadowy earth hang brooding,

Like a pale silver haze, betwixt the moon

And the world’s darker orb: beautiful, hail!

Hail to thee! from her midnight throne of ether,

Night looks upon the slumbering universe.

There is no breeze on silver-crownëd tree,

There is no breath on dew-bespangled flower,

There is no wind sighs on the sleepy wave,

There is no sound hangs in the solemn air.

All, all are silent, all are dreaming, all,

Save those eternal eyes, that now shine forth

Winking the slumberer’s destinies.  The moon

Sails on the horizon’s verge, a moving glory,

Pure, and unrivalled; for no paler orb

Approaches, to invade the sea of light

That lives around her; save yon little star,

That sparkles on her robe of fleecy clouds,

Like a bright gem, fallen from her radiant brow.