II.

Oft have I mark’d the heav’nly moon

Wandering her pathless way

Along the midnight’s purple noon,

More fair—more loved than day:

But soon she flung her shadowy wreath

O’er dark eternity,

As a faint smile on the cheek of death

’Twixt hope and agony.

Personal sketches of his own times, Vol. 2 (of 3) · 第 75 / 126 题