𝑯𝒆𝒚, 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓! · 𝑵𝒊𝒌𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒊 𝑮. • 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 • 𝑭𝒚𝒐𝒅𝒐𝒓 𝑫.

'Twas noontide of summer,
And mid-time of night;
And stars, in their orbits,
Shone pale, thro' the light
Of the brighter, cold moon.
'Mid planets her slaves,
Herself in the heavens,
Her beam on the waves
I gaz'd awhile
On her cold smile;
Too cold-too cold for me-
There pass'd as a shroud,
A fleecy cloud,
And I turn'd away to thee,
Proud Evening Star,
In thy glory afar
And dearer thy beam shall be;
For joy to my heart
Is the proud part
Thou bearest in Heaven at night,
And more I admire
Thy distant fire,
Than that colder, lowly light.

- Evening Star, Edgar Allan Poe