Over the brow of lofty scar
Quivers the light of evening star,
And throws within the gorge's gloaming
A kiss of beams on the brook afar.
Quivers the stream with strange delight
Through all the murmuring hours of night,
And to the pale moss tells its story,
And lichens fumbling far up the height.
And in its dusk, for aye the brook
To cliffy covert, caverned nook,
Brattles its sweet and starry secret —
Foregleam of day and an open look!