The Comet

WAS it a star,

Or was it a pearl,

Loosed with a jar

From its setting

I’ the coronet moon,

And begetting,

As it fell with a whirl—

Whirling far—

A splendor that faded too soon?

Was it a dream

Of some splendid star born,

That glowed with a gleam

And a quiver

That startled the night?

Like a river

That flowed to the moon

It did seem,

In its luminous, lustrous light.

Was it a gem

Transfixed with a ray

From the burning, bright hem

Of the wondrous,

Terrible sun, or the moon?

Over us, under us,

Nor night, no, nor day

Hath its equal, bright gem,

Fair feather of light, flown too soon.