• --The sky is overcast
    With a continuous cloud of texture close,
    Heavy and wan, all whitened by the Moon,
    Which through that veil is indistinctly seen,
    A dull, contracted circle, yielding light
    So feebly spread, that not a shadow falls,
    Chequering the ground--from rock, plant, tree, or tower.
    At length a pleasant instantaneous gleam
    Startles the pensive traveller while he treads
    His lonesome path, with unobserving eye
    Bent earthwards; he looks up--the clouds are split
    Asunder,--and above his head he sees
    The clear Moon, and the glory of the heavens.
    There, in a black-blue vault she sails along,
    Followed by multitudes of stars, that, small
    And sharp, and bright, along the dark abyss
    Drive as she drives: how fast they wheel away,
    Yet vanish not!--the wind is in the tree,
    But they are silent;--still they roll along
    Immeasurably distant; and the vault,
    Built round by those white clouds, enormous clouds,
    Still deepens its unfathomable depth.
    At length the Vision closes; and the mind,
    Not undisturbed by the delight it feels,
    Which slowly settles into peaceful calm,
    Is left to muse upon the solemn scene.