My heart reflects, sometimes, the darkling ev’ning sky:
Helios a blaze undimmed by watercolor smears of cloud
Until he sinks below the world’s rough edge, falls out of
Mind as out of sight, leaves Hesperos to stand alone beside
Selene’s slim curve; though still the domèd path he trod is
For a while yet lit, as with the embers of extinguished flame.

Long they stand ungraced by other company, till
Night rolls back her drapery, leads forth at last uncounted host –
Sentinels in bright attire and bold, striding forth – that
They, argentate mistresses of even sky, might know
They stand, not lonely after all, but with great cloud of
Lookers-on, emboldening their hopeful wait for morn’s return