Move eastward, happy earth, and leave

Yon orange sunset waning slow:

From fringes of the faded eve,

O, happy planet, eastward go:

Till over thy dark shoulder glow

Thy silver sister world, and rise

To glass herself in dewey eyes

That watch me from the glen below.

Ah, bear me with thee, lightly borne,

Dip forward under starry light,

And move me to my marriage-morn,

And round again to happy night.





Lord Alfred Tennyson

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