by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807 - 1882)

The rising moon has hid the stars
Language: English 
The rising moon has hid the stars,
Her level rays like golden bars
Lie on the landscape green
With shadows brown between,
And silver-white the river gleams,
As if Diana, in her dreams,
Had dropp'd her silver bow
Upon the meadows low.
On such a tranquil night as this,
She woke Endymion with a kiss
When sleeping in the grove,
He dreamed not of her love.
Like Dian's kiss unask'd unsought,
Love gives itself, but is not bought,
Nor voice nor sound betrays
Its deep impassioned gaze.

It comes, the beautiful, the free;
The crown, of all humanity,
In silence, and alone,
To seek the elected one,
It lifts the boughs whose shadows deep
Are life's oblivion, the soul's sleep.
And kisses the closed eyes
Of him who slumbering lies.
Oh, weary hearts, oh, slumbering eyes,
Oh, drooping souls whose destinies
Are fraught with fear and pain,
Ye shall be loved again!
No one is so accursed by fate,
No one so utterly desolate
But some heart, though unknown,
Responds unto his own, responds
As though with unseen wings
An angel touched the quiv'ring strings
And whispers in its song
Where hast thou stayed so long?

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Researcher for this text: Barbara Miller

This text was added to the website: 2004-02-11
Line count: 36
Word count: 196