VENUS

A nearer sun, a rose of light arises,

To clothe my glens with richer clouds of flowers,

To paint my clouds with ever new surprises

And wreathe with mist my rosier domes and towers;

Where now, to praise their gods, a throng assembles

Whose hopes and dreams no sphere but mine has known.

On other worlds the same warm sunlight trembles;

But life, love, worship, these are mine alone.