Evening Star

Edgar Allan Poe

 '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 gazed awhile
    On her cold smile;
 Too cold- too cold for me-
  There pass'd, as a shroud,
  A fleecy cloud,
 And I turned 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.

               Eulalie

                  I dwelt alone
                  In a world of moan,
           And my soul was a stagnant tide,
  Till the fair and gentle Eulalie became my blushing bride-
  Till the yellow-haired young Eulalie became my smiling bride.

                  Ah, less- less bright
                  The stars of the night
           Than the eyes of the radiant girl!
                  That the vapor can make
           With the moon-tints of purple and pearl,
  Can vie with the modest Eulalie's most unregarded curl-
  Can compare with the bright-eyed Eulalie's most humble and careless
         curl.

                  Now Doubt- now Pain
                  Come never again,
           For her soul gives me sigh for sigh,
                  And all day long
                  Shines, bright and strong,
           Astarte within the sky,
  While ever to her dear Eulalie upturns her matron eye-
  While ever to her young Eulalie upturns her violet eye.