The Star and the Garter

The moon is up full-orbed : she glides Striking a snaky ray Across the black resounding tides, The sepulchre of day. The moon is up: upon the prow We stand and watch the moon. A star is lustred on your brow ; Your lips begin a tune, A long, low tune of love that swells Little by little, and lights The overarching miracles Of love’s desire, and Night’s. It swells, it rolls to triumph-song Through luminous black skies ; Thrills into silence sharp and strong, Assumes its peace, and dies. There is the night: it covers close The lilies folded fair Of all your beauty, and the rose Half hidden in your hair. 26