The Queen of Night

Mortal, mortal, have you seen

In the scented summer night,

Great Astarte, clad in green

With a veil of mystic light,

Passing on her silent way,

Pale and lovelier than day?

Mortal, mortal, have you heard,

On an odorous summer eve,

Rumors of an unknown word

Bidding sorrow not to grieve,—

Echoes of a silver voice

Bidding every heart rejoice?

Mortal, when the slim new moon

Hangs above the western hill,

When the year comes round to June

And the leafy world is still,

Then, enraptured, you shall hear

Secrets for a poet's ear.

Mortal, mortal, come with me,

When the moon is rising large,

Through the wood or from the sea,

Or by some lone river marge.

There, entranced, you shall behold

Beauty's self, that grows not old.