Endymion

How slowly falls yon sickle from on high Through evening’s silent sky,
Flashing a splendor from its curvëd blade On the low-lying shade !

Now in and out the narrow cloud that bars Its pathway from the stars
It slips, and with a golden glory shines, Nearing the mountain lines.

Nay, ’t is no sickle which some unseen hand Lets fall upon the land ;
It is the jewel of a lady’s crown, As she steps lightly down.

Night after night, down the aerial stair She stealeth unaware ;
Leaving the empire which she rules above, And all her state, for love.

Behold, her feet have touched the rocky steeps Where the young shepherd sleeps,
And larger burns her jewel as she moves In search of him she loves.

And now it fades, and glimmers, and is gone.
Happy Endymion!
While here the world in sudden shadow lies, She bends above his eyes.