O how Night restores thy priestly glory!
(How deep Diana threads the onyx vest
that shrouds thee) Grave Apollo's hoary
steeds but mute the glimmer of thy breast,
thy vagrant lips, thy lilt of changing tongue
that sings a mythic language (all the rest
art earthly measures frail) How thou hast sprung
Upon the world thy gifts so lightly known;
how thou, defying Nature's muse, has flung
Thy blossom'd branch and cast thy weather'd stone
to darkness (and in darkness thou must be,
beyond my nascent soul) Thy beauty grown
with all the grandeur of Night's dappled sea,
with all the wonder thou bestows to me.