Samuel Taylor Coleridge

The Moon, How Definite Its Orb! (Fragment)

The Moon, how definite its orb!
  Yet gaze again, and with a steady gaze—
  'Tis there indeed,—but where is it not?—
  It is suffused o’er all the sapphire Heaven,
  Trees, herbage, snake-like stream, unwrinkled Lake,
  Whose very murmur does of it partake
  And low and close the broad smooth mountain
  Is more a thing of Heaven than when
  Distinct by one dim shade and yet undivided from the universal cloud
 In which it towers, finite in height.

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