Song to the Evening Star

Star that bringest home the bee,     And sett'st the weary labourer free!     If any star shed peace, 'tis thou,         That send'st it from above,     Appearing when Heaven's breath and brow         Are sweet as hers we love.       Come to the luxuriant skies     Whilst the landscape's odours rise,     Whilst far-off lowing herds are heard,        And songs, when toil is done,    From cottages whose smoke unstirred        Curls yellow in the sun.      Star of lover's soft interviews,    Parted lovers on thee muse;    Their remembrancer in heaven        Of thrilling vows thou art,    Too delicious to be riven        By absence from the heart.