When day gives place to sweeter night,
And twinkling stars come out on high,
Like sentinels in armor bright,
To watch amid the ebon sky;
High in the north thine eye will see
_That lonely star_, whose steady beam
Shall look into thy heart, and be
The phantom of thy troubled dream.
I love thee not: though once thy heart
Beat in warm answer to my own;
Like strangers we shall meet and part,
And I shall tread my way alone.
_Brooklyn, L. I._ HANS VON SPIEGEL.