Heaven's ebon vault, Studded with stars unutterably bright, Through which the moon's unclouded grandeur rolls, Seems like a canopy which love has spread To curtain her sleeping world.

Nature rejects the monarch, not the man; The subject, not the citizen; for kings And subjects, mutual foes, forever play A losing game into each other's hands,…

War is the statesman's game, the priest's delight, The lawyer's jest, the hired assassin's trade.

How wonderful is Death, Death and his brother Sleep!

I am the pool of gold When sunset burns and dies,- You are my deepening skies, Give me your stars to hold.

Look at the stars! look, look up at the skies! O look at all the fire-folk sitting in the air!

First one beam, then another, then A thousand are radiant in the sky. Each is both star and orb; and day Is the riches of their atmosphere.