Song to the Evening Star

Star that bringest home the bee,

    And sett'st the weary labourer free!

    If any star shed peace, 'tis thou,

        That send'st it from above,

    Appearing when Heaven's breath and brow

        Are sweet as hers we love.

      Come to the luxuriant skies

    Whilst the landscape's odours rise,

    Whilst far-off lowing herds are heard,

       And songs, when toil is done,

   From cottages whose smoke unstirred

       Curls yellow in the sun.

     Star of lover's soft interviews,

   Parted lovers on thee muse;

   Their remembrancer

in heaven        Of thrilling vows thou art,    Too delicious to be riven        By absence from the heart.