I care not for a shiny moon,
That plate seems prone to die with dawn
I care not for the burning sun,
It, too, sparks once and then is gone;
But only one fair light stays still,
In dark or day, long-lost and far
Uncalled by those who worship sky:
The bright and secret morning star.
So is the life which knew no love,
The soul which knew no single worth
Eclipsed by lights with greater fame
And poor and pale upon the earth.
But God alone receives its beams,
And I, who bless its trepid heart,
Feeling within it part of me
Knowing I am that morning star.
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