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Night of July

Midnight; midwinter; nearing the full moon of July.
How transparent, Spirit of Beauty, the night blue of the sky!
How extreme the clarity of thy silvern stars;
How serene the silence that no wind-intrusion mars;
How soft the dusk doth sea and sky enfold;
The thousand lamps of the plain burn with subdued gold;
On northern bound apparent, frozen, mountain snows
Seal with their immobility slumbering earth’s repose.

Eternal Spirit of Beauty, thy thoughts are very deep;
Unsearchable are thy riches. Wherefore dost thou keep
The soul athirst for loveliness? Far past
Our dream thy plenitude—shall thou not at the last
Give drink enough to appease from the fountains of thy deep?
To-night, by this draught renewed, I turn to sleep.