With how sad steps, O Moon thou climb'st the sky

William Wordsworth

1770 to 1850

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Queen both for beauty and for majesty.
And all the Stars, now shrouded up in heaven,
What strife would then be yours, fair Creatures, driv'n
But, Cynthia, should to Thee the palm be giv'n,
Which they would stifle, move at such a pace!
Where art thou? Thou whom I have seen on high
Should sally forth to keep thee company.
With how sad steps, O Moon thou climb'st the sky.
Running among the clouds a Wood-nymph's race?
The power of Merlin, Goddess! this should be
The Northern Wind, to call thee to the chace,
Now up, now down, and sparkling in your glee!
Unhappy Nuns, whose common breath's a sigh
How silently, and with how wan a face!
Must blow tonight his bugle horn. Had I

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