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In broad
daylight, and at noon,
Yesterday I saw the moon
Sailing high, but faint and white,
As a schoolboy's
paper kite.
In broad daylight, yesterday,
I
read a poet's mystic lay;
And it seemed to me at most
As a phantom, or a ghost.
But at length the
feverish day
Like a passion died away,
And the
night, serene and still,
Fell on village, vale, and
hill.
Then the moon, in all her pride,
Like a
spirit glorified,
Filled and overflowed the night
With revelations of her light.
And the Poet's
song again
Passed like music through my brain;
Night interpreted to me
All its grace and mystery.
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