SONNET
TO
THE
MOON
.
THE
glitt'ring
colours
of
the
day
are
fled
;
Come
,
melancholy
orb
!
that
dwell'st
with
night
,
Come
!
and
o'er
earth
thy
wand'ring
lustre
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
to
soothe
a
suff'ring
heart
.