Hail, O my moon, most beautiful and bright,O page of beauty native and upright,
O canvas of the unseen, richly wroughtWith majesty beyond the reach of thought.
Is there within your radiance a sparkTo heal the weary soul benighted, dark?
You grant life's gift to one whose spirit burnsFor poetry and art, whose soul still yearns.
You grant serenity to those who seek,And shall bestow what they have yet to speak.
From every spring for which the heart has pined—Though it be but a spring of narrow kind—
A spring drawn from the soul that wandered farEnraptured by love of the impossible star.
Send forth your guiding beam, for you aloneArt sign and pathway to the arts' bright throne.
Spread immortality's clear light abroadIn twilight realms and in the day's decline, O god.
Unbar the unseen's gates from wildernessWhere wanderers lose their way in loneliness.
Pour out your brightness upon human hearts—Perchance it slakes the thirst that anguish starts.
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