Moth to Stella

Miss Flaxman

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