O, thou art fairer than the evening air clad in the beauty of a thousand stars.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
What name to call thee by, O virgin fair, I know not, for thy looks are not of earth And more than mortal seems thy countenances.
Above the cloud with its shadow is the star with its light. Above all things reverence thyself.
Be thou the rainbow in the storms of life. The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, and tints tomorrow with prophetic ray.
If the stars should appear but one night every thousand years how man would marvel and stare.
Ah, dearer than my soul. Dearer than light, or life, or fame.
Beauty is everlasting And dust is for a time.
Those little nimble musicians of the air, that warble forth their curious ditties, with which nature hath furnished them to the shame of art.
Beauty is in the heart of the beholder.
Ye stars! which are the poetry of heaven!
Reason, I sacrifice you to the evening breeze.