The evening breeze is blowing from the lea Upon the fluttering elm; thou hast a mind, O star! methinks, to settle in the tree - But, ever baffled by the pettish wind, Thou movest back and forward, and I find A pastime for my thoughts in watching thee; In thy vast orbit thou art rolling now, And wottest not how to my human eye Thou seemest flouted by a waving bough, Serving my fancy's needs right pleasantly; Thou wottest not - but He who made thee knows Of all thy fair results both far and near, Of all thine earthly, all thine heavenly shows - The expression of thy beauty there and here. |