Charlotte Smith - To the Moon lyrics

Queen of the silver bow!—by thy pale beam Alone and pensive, I delight to stray, And watch thy shadow trembling in the stream, Or mark the floating clouds that cross thy way. And while I gaze, thy mild and placid light Sheds a soft calm upon my troubled breast; And oft I think—fair planet of the night— That in thy orb, the wretched may have rest: The sufferers of the earth perhaps may go, Released by d**h—to thy benignant sphere, And the sad children of Despair and Woe Forget, in thee, their cup of sorrow here. Oh! that I soon may reach thy world serene, Poor wearied pilgrim—in this toiling scene!