html.skin-theme-clientpref-night @media(prefers-color-scheme:dark){html.skin-theme-clientpref-os }O silver moon with trembling ray,
No twinkling stars arise,—
The last faint light has died away,
And darkness veils the skies.
But see! a pallid lustre streams
O'er yonder heaving main;
The waves are sparkling 'neath its beams,
And dance in light again.
And now with stronger, redder glow,
It rolls along the sky,
Till all the watery waste below
Reflects the crimson dye.
What can it he—that fitful light!
Now soft as evening's ray,—
Now like the storm-cloud, fiery bright,
Then fading all away?
It is the wondrous meteor-blaze,
The brilliant Northern light;
Which breaks and gilds with friendly rays
Their long and dreary night.
It shines upon their ice-built homes,
With soft and beamy glow;
And led by it the traveller roams
O'er boundless plains of snow.
How like is that rejoicing light
To Hope's bright, cheerful ray,—
Which onward points, and turns the night
Of deepest gloom to day!
E.