Canto CXIX
Sad Hesper o’er the buried sunAnd ready, thou, to die with him,Thou watchest all things ever dimAnd dimmer, and a glory done:
The team is loosen’d from the wain,The boat is drawn upon the shore;Thou listenest to the closing door,And life is darken’d in the brain.
Bright Phosphor, fresher for the night,By thee the world’s great work is heardBeginning, and the wakeful bird;Behind thee comes the greater light:
The market boat is on the stream,And voices hail it from the brink;Thou hear’st the village hammer clink,And see’st the moving of the team.
Sweet Hesper-Phosphor, double nameFor what is one, the first, the last,Thou, like my present and my past,Thy place is changed; thou art the same.