Bright Moon.

A poem by Thomas Moore

Bright moon, that high in heaven art shining,
All smiles, as if within thy bower to-night
Thy own Endymion lay reclining,
And thou wouldst wake him with a kiss of light!--
By all the bliss thy beam discovers,
By all those visions far too bright for day,
Which dreaming bards and waking lovers
Behold, this night, beneath thy lingering ray,--

I pray thee, queen of that bright heaven,
Quench not to-night thy love-lamp in the sea,
Till Anthe, in this bower, hath given
Beneath thy beam, her long-vowed kiss to me.
Guide hither, guide her steps benighted,
Ere thou, sweet moon, thy bashful crescent hide;
Let Love but in this bower be lighted,
Then shroud in darkness all the world beside.

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