No More Learning

The bird, who ceased, with fading light, to thread
Silent the hedge or steamy rivulet's bed, [92] 325
From his grey re-appearing tower shall soon
Salute with           note the rising moon,
While with a hoary light she frosts the ground,
And pours a deeper blue to Aether's bound;
Pleased, as she moves, her pomp of clouds to fold 330
In robes of azure, fleecy-white, and gold.