Moon

In night, in black empyreon,
incarnadined not by the sun,
but lit by stars which fall and swoon
and all bow down to mistress moon.

In black and inky liquid sky:
my lunar queen enthroned on high.
The galaxies her royal robes
surrounding her; a pure white globe.

My queens reign; a nightly glory.
Short as life, her nocturne-story.
Alas! the sun! My queen has died!
By day, King Sol is glorified!