Shall I compare thee to a shooting star
That sears in sudden glory through the night,
And burns our eyes with iridescent scar
Of blazing beauty, etched in fiery flight?

Or could it be Apollo's golden orb
Still lingers here to cast his brilliant beams?
Those silken webs of words that so absorb,
Enlightening our hopes, our fears, our dreams?

Or yet, Selene's sweet, seductive spells
Bewitching all they touch with silv'ry sheens?
Thy magic glitters brighter as it tells
Of lovers' vows; of broken kings and queens.

Though stars and sun and moon may all combine,
In jealous concord gainst thy radiant pow'r,
Yet never shall their petty lights outshine
The splendour of thy works' eternal hour.

Within the hearts of men thy tales inspire
A passion far more hot than Nature's fire.