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TO THE MOON, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: All hail to thee! Radiant ruler of night
Last Line: Bringing hope from on high, forming rainbows in tears.
Alternate Author Name(s): Quaker Poet
Subject(s): Moon


ALL hail to thee! radiant ruler of night!
Shedding round thee thy soft and thy silvery light;
Now touching the hill-tops, now threading the vale,
Oh! who can behold thee, nor bid thee all hail?

The monarch of day more majestic may be,
When he rises in pomp on the verge of the sea;
When, the clouds that have curtain'd him slowly undrawn,
His magnificence scatters the mists of the morn.

His glory at noon may be greater than thine;
More splendid and glowing his evening decline,
When the hues of the rainbow illumine the west,
And millions of happy birds sing him to rest.

But not in his rise, in his zenith, nor even
When his parting effulgence irradiates half heaven;
Though grand and majestic his glory be shown,
Does he shine with a loveliness sweet as thy own.

The pleasures, the cares, and the business of life
Are ever with calm contemplation at strife;
And, absorb'd in our selfish pursuits, we forget
The sun and his glories till after his set.

But THOU comest forth when the stir is subsiding,
Like an angel of light through the clear heavens gliding;
As if to remind us, ere sinking to rest,
Of worlds more delightful, of beings more blest.

Through the path which thy Maker has trac'd thee on high,
Thou walkest in silence across the vast sky;
Suns and worlds scatter'd round thee, though brilliant they be,
Appear but like humble attendants on thee.

All silent thyself! yet that stillness appears
The signal for music, as sweet as the tears
That the dews of the night o'er the landscape distil,
Which, seen by thy bright beams, are lovelier still.

For the softest of sounds shed their harmony round,
More musical far in a calm so profound;
The murmur of brooks, and the nightingale's song,
And the sigh of the breeze, sweeping gently along:

These alone form thy orchestra; yet, in the hour
Of thy pensive dominion, and heart-touching power,
Their exquisite magic seems fraught with a tone,
To the music of gaudier daylight unknown.

Roll on then, thou radlant ruler of night!
Exult in thy empire, rejoice in thy light;
Over mountain and valley, o'er ocean and isle,
Pour down thy soft splendour, and lavish thy smile.

For thy splendour, undazzling, and touchingly sweet,
Is one that e'en sorrow serenely can greet;
And thy smile, glist'ning bright on each dew drop, appears
Bringing hope from on high, forming rainbows in tears.





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