Sonnet XX: Gracious Moonlight
Even as the moon grows queenlier in mid—space
When the sky darkens, and her cloud—rapt car
Thrills with intenser radiance from afar,—
So lambent, lady, beams thy sovereign grace
When the drear soul desires thee. Of that face
What shall be said,—which, like a governing star,
Gathers and garners from all things that are
Their silent penetrative loveliness?
O’er water—daisies and wild waifs of Spring,
There where the iris rears its gold—crowned sheaf
With flowering rush and sceptred arrow—leaf,
So have I marked Queen Dian, in bright ring
Of cloud above and wave below, take wing
And chase night’s gloom, as thou the spirit’s grief.
