Page:Poems by William Wordsworth (1815) Volume 1.djvu/361

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sky is overcast

With a continuous cloud of texture close,

Heavy and wan, all whitened by the Moon,

Which through that veil is indistinctly seen,

A dull, contracted circle, yielding light

So feebly spread that not a shadow falls,

Chequering the ground, from rock, plant, tree, or tower.

At length a pleasant instantaneous gleam

Startles the pensive traveller as he treads

His lonesome path, with unobserving eye

Bent earthwards; he looks up—the clouds are split

Asunder,—and above his head he sees

The clear moon, and the glory of the heavens.

There, in a black blue vault she sails along,

Followed by multitudes of stars, that, small

And sharp, and bright, along the dark abyss