When light first gleamed upon this sphere,
Ages ago, my form was born;
But fate says I must disappear:
To-night from heaven I shall be torn.

My luminous life, so pure and free,
Must pass to nebulous disgrace;
While far above I now can see
The star ordained to take my place.

No hatreds in my soul prevail;
I do not e'en regret my light;
But I regret the poet pale,
Who watched me lovingly each night.

He knew not that my silvery beams
Could all his revery inspire,
Nor how I caused his wandering dreams
To glow with a poetic fire.

He will not know that I am dead,
Lost in eternity and time;
And, to another in my stead,
He will pour forth his songs sublime.

Oh, sister star! if you, too, love,
How you will suffer in the sky;
For I have seen him live, above,
While you are doomed to see him die.