The Lowly Star

Twas the midtime of Summer
Thro the bleakest hours of the night
Whilst the moon in beaming glory
Shone pale arrayed in place and light

Pondered I for a moments time
Marvelled in her shade
Her shadow against the roaring tide
The planets called to her slaves

There! When my faith was lost
Thro the heavens a cloud so low in the skies
Braced against her nature cold
A stranger to her lies. 

Turned away from thee
O crescent moon that pleasant night 
Away from thy glory far 
Nearer to a dream I shall be 
A time to claim my place twist the stars.