There! In the painted visage of the Western horizon,

Whose sills the sunken Sun incinerates,

Like a fair betrothed Youth in her prime of Life, shines

That evening glimmer, the Northern star of Peace and rest!

And then, anonymous, she does herself divide

Up to us all her radiant wardrobe, and reclines

Behind the somber line of far-flung Pines,

With deep slumber, and sweet dreams of Love persecuted.

Oh! My beloved one, my sweet bearing-partner! All Troy cannot fetter that which you have illumined, to me!

My mourning-pillow, and my evening-star of Love in the night!

Oh! Gentlest and Fairer, yet! Even so,

As does that fair form within the Heavens above,

Do you retire back into your silence when falls the night,

And from your darkened Portal, fades fast the shimmering light.