A summer gloaming lit by one pale star,—
When crickets' songs the night's weird echoes woke,
And katy-dids sent their sharp notes afar
From out the coolness of a spreading oak,
Now fills my soul with memories most sweet:
The light-house gleamed, a flame crowned sentinel,
And where the lines of earth and ocean meet,
The long, low rollers softly rose and fell.

Then, from the mist that hung above the sea,
Like a gold cresset full of amber light
The broad moon came. Above a bending tree
A floating cirrus showed its snowy white,
And coming with the moon and growing strong,
The cool night wind ran o'er the heated ground,
Making the low waves murmur into song,
Through broadening circles of melodious sound.

Who counts his life in fleeting hours and days,
Makes sad mistakes; but by sweet scenes like this
We should keep record of its devious ways,
And use for stops a hand clasp, or a kiss,
Ah, what are all the years to that short hour,
When only one pale star in heaven outshone,
And sent its thin light wavering o'er the flower,
Dew-gemmed and sweet, that sealed you mine alone!