By anonymous

Lightly stepped a yellow star
To its lofty place,
Loosed the Moon her silver hat
From her lustral face.
All of evening softly lit
As an astral hall—
“Father,” I observed to Heaven,
“You are punctual.”

LIX
The Moon upon her fluent route
Defiant of a road,
The stars Etruscan argument,
Substantiate a God.
If Aims impel these Astral Ones,
The Ones allowed to know,
Know that which makes them as forgot
As Dawn forgets them now.

LX
Like some old-fashioned miracle
When Summertime is done,
Seems Summer’s recollection
And the affairs of June.