And though she wakes in skies of wide array,
Her beauty holds no candle to the dawn.
She breaks with clouds and folds the light away,
Yet still the night is done.
The dance she keeps, and sleeps in wild affray;
When night has passed, her light is shed and gone.
The last of her is lost by light of day,
And her beauty holds no candle to the dawn.
The mistress may have the night. But, alas, she never steals the day.
Palimpsest 