A NIGHT-PIECE

                  At length a pleasant instantaneous gleam
                  Startles the pensive traveller while he treads
                  His lonesome path, with unobserving eye
                  Bent earthwards; he looks up-the clouds are split
                  Asunder, — and above his head he sees
                  The clear Moon, and the glory of the heavens.
                  There, in a black-blue vault she sails along,
                  Followed by multitudes of stars, that, small
                  And sharp, and bright, along the dark abyss
                  Drive as she drives: how fast they wheel away,
                  Yet vanish not! — the wind is in the tree,
                  But they are silent; — still they roll along
                  Immeasurably distant; and the vault,
                  Built round by those white clouds, enormous clouds,
                  Still deepens its unfathomable depth.
                  At length the Vision closes; and the mind,
                  Not undisturbed by the delight it feels,
                  Which slowly settles into peaceful calm,
                  Is left to muse upon the solemn scene.

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