from Heart of Love
Moon, whose countenance describes the night!
are we to vie with such a satellite?
Whose arm hew thee in thy majestic height?
Which eye disclosed thy sister-spirits bright?
Lune, whose marbled arch if carven might
palatial be for seraphs glory-dight,
be herald of the sky, immortal kite!
Be errant for thy Maker, mirror-knight!