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Evening Star

by Edgar Allan Poe

’Twas noontide of summer,

And mid-time of night;

And stars in their orbits,

Shone pale, thro’ the light

Of the brighter, cold moon,

’Mid planets her slaves,

Herself in the Heavens,

Her beam on the waves.

I gazed awhile

On her cold smile;

Too cold—too cold for me—

There pass’d, as a shroud,

A fleecy cloud,

And I turn’d away to thee,

Proud Evening Star,

In thy glory afar,

And dearer thy beam shall be;

For joy to my heart

Is the proud part

Thou bearest in Heaven at night,

And more I admire

Thy distant fire,

Than that colder, lowly light.