To Vera at Night

By George Sterling

How dark, how still, how sad the night!
    Above, the voiceless stars go by;
    No moon is in the hollow sky,
Nor mists upon the southern height.

Above, those Captains of the Deep
    On their eternal conquest go—
    August, unfaltering. I know
The midnight lies about thy sleep.

It well may be thou dreamest not,
    That there they life's amazements cease,
    And in the mystery of thy peace
Regret and hope are well-forgot.

But wakeful here, with none to mark,
    Eastward across the night I gaze,
    Where soaring from the horizon-haze
The wings of Lyra cleave the dark.

Eastward upon a secret way
    I cast my spirit's wind of fire,
    To find thee, tho the stars expire,
To love thee, tho the heavens betray;

To stand, permitted and apart,
    A solemn watcher in the gloom,
    And hear thy breathing in the room,
And know God is, because thou art.

Darling, I stand unseen. And yet,
    Perchance within thy vale of dream
    With purer light the waters gleam,
With clearer dews the grass is wet,

Since there my soul is moon awhile.
    Oh! if it touch thy snows of rest,
    May tranquil visions fill thy breast,
And in thy slumber mayst thou smile!

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