Since Stella hides her from my sight
No guides my wonted ev’ning flight
I’ll seek some less resplendent light
To cheer my way.
But where is that magnetic pow’r
That lures me to my Stella’s bow’r
And makes the sober twilight hour
Like brightest day?
’Tis hers alone, the charm, the spell,
That thus my thoughts, my steps impel
Through woody brake, or flowing dell
With her to stay.
Oh then return, sweet evening hour
That calls me to my Stella’s bow’r;
My polar star, then show thy pow’r
And guide my way!
Friday Night, June 8th