Sweet Surrender

Flammarion Engraving (1888, colorized) by Unknown

When the sun in last retreat turns face

    And whispers to the moon,

Their distant words fall like frost

    On a people deaf to croon.

All about the pond and pasture

     Stirrings slows to sleep,

Save where man with lamp and will

     From day hours cheat.

Presently the moon will have her way

     For the stein is at its last,

And beyond the pipe’s silvery veil

     Stars wait, soft and vast.

Now near and now far again

     They trick the tired eye,

For though the Angels never lie

     They are they, and I am I.