Stars wheel in purple, yours is not so rare
As Hesperus, nor yet so great a star
As bright Aldeboran or Sirius,
Nor yet the stained and brilliant one of War;
Stars turn in purple, glorious to the sight;
Yours is not gracious as the Pleiads are
Nor as Orion's sapphires, luminous;
Yet disenchanted, cold, imperious face,
When all the others blighted, reel and fall,
Your star, steel-set, keeps lone and frigid tryst
To freighted ships, baffled in wind and blast.
