The faint stars wake and wonder,
Fade and find heart anew;
Above us and far under
Sphereth the watchful blue.
Silent she sits, outbending,
A wild pathetic grace,
A beauty strange, heart-rending,
Upon her hair and face.
O spirit cries that sever
The cricket's level drone!
O to give o'er endeavor
And let love have its own!
Within the mirrored bushes
There wakes a little stir;
The white-throat moves, and hushes
Her nestlings under her.
Beneath, the lustrous river,
The watchful sky o'erhead.
God, God, that Thou should'st ever
Poison thy children's bread!