To the Moon

[ZaunköniG]

The glitt'ring colors of the day are fled;
Come, melancholy orb! that dwell'st with night,
Come! and o'er earth thy wandering luster shed,
Thy deepest shadow, and thy softest light;

To me congenial is the gloomy grove,
When with faint light the sloping uplands shine;
That gloom, those pensive rays alike I love,
Whose sadness seems in sympathy with mine!

But most for this, pale orb! thy beams are dear,
For this, benignant orb! I hail thee most:
That while I pour the unavailing tear,
And mourn that hope to me in youth is lost,

Thy light can visionary thoughts impart,
And lead the Muse so soothe a suffering heart.