Look where a three-point star shall weave his beam

Into the slumb'rous tissue of some stream,

Till his bright self o'er his bright copy seem

Fulfillment dropping on a come-true dream;

So in this night of art thy soul doth show

Her excellent double in the steadfast flow

Of wishing love that through men's hearts doth go:

At once thou shin'st above and shin'st below.

E'en when thou strivest there within Art's sky

(Each star must round an arduous orbit fly),

Full calm thine image in our love doth lie,

A Motion glassed in a Tranquillity.

So triple-rayed, thou mov'st, yet stay'st, serene—

Art's artist, Love's dear woman, Fame's good queen!