Poetry Archives

Roll on, O shining sun,
  To the far seas,
Bring down, ye shades of eve,
  The soft, salt breeze!
Shine out, O stars, and light
My darling’s pathway bright,
As through the summer night
  She comes to me.

No beam of any star
  Can match her eyes;
Her smile the bursting day
  In light outvies.
Her voice—the sweetest thing
Heard by the raptured spring
When waking wild-woods ring—
  She comes to me.

Ye stars, more swiftly wheel,
  O’er earth’s still breast;
More wildly plunge and reel
  In the dim west!
The earth is lone and lorn,
Till the glad day be born,
Till with the happy morn
  She comes to me.