A NIGHT THOUGHT.

How oft a cloud, with envious veil,

Obscures yon bashful light,

Which seems so modestly to steal

Along the waste of night!

'Tis thus the world's obtrusive wrongs

Obscure with malice keen

Some timid heart, which only longs

To live and die unseen.

The Complete Poems of Sir Thomas Moore Collected by Himself with Explanatory Notes · 第 231 / 1302 题