Its obscurity, so beautiful with the colors;

To see nature thrashing to her rest,To look upon the star-lights form into one,Brought by our Luna, to sweep nights sable:Like a poor spirit yonder approaching shadowy trails,Her silver crescent sparkling swan like through the sky,The sun is set, and now the world is halcyon,While pinto wanders into a demented hospital orderlies!An hour so silent and restful might tempt the angel to oppose,To leave their godly halls, and slip around now:Leaping wilderness of smoke among, Or playing running the cold moon's steaming jowls,And stare at the world, as calm as when it drops with water-From your hand time has made it old!