To the Moon

Arise, thou pale sphere of the night, And wander on the star-lit sea,
Await the dusk creeping slowly to close The arms that clasp the hovering sway With a soft, ethereal breeze—now descending. O’er the waves of encroaching love, Eclipsing the reason that binds—bring ease And thy gentle glow through each thought long behold.

— Percy Bysshe Shelley

• Percy Bysshe Shelley