Page:Sibylline Leaves (Coleridge).djvu/147

 I saw a cloud of palest hue,
 * Onward to the Moon it passed.

Still brighter and more bright it grew, With floating colours not a few,
 * Till it reached the Moon at last;

Then the cloud was wholly bright, With a rich and amber light! And so with many a hope I seek
 * And with such joy I find my Lewti;

And even so my pale wan cheek
 * Drinks in as deep a flush of beauty!

Nay, treacherous image! leave my mind, If Lewti never will be kind.

The little cloud—it floats away,
 * Away it goes; away so soon?

Alas! it has no power to stay: Its hues are dim, its hues are grey—
 * Away it passes from the Moon!

How mournfully it seems to fly,
 * Ever fading more and more,

To joyless regions of the sky—
 * And now 'tis whiter than before!

As white as my poor cheek will be,