An Acrostic

The Moon

Lo! yonder rides the empress of the night!
Unveil'd she casts around her silver light;
Cease not, fair orb, thy slow majestic march,
Resume again thy seat in yon blue arch.
E'en now, as weary of the tedious way,
Thy head on ocean's bosom thou dost lay;
In his blue waves thou hid'st thy shining face,
And gloomy darkness takes its vacant place.

The Sun
[In continuation]

Darting his rays the sun now glorious rides,
And from his path fell darkness quick divides;
Vapour dissolves and shrinks at his approach,
It dares not on his blazing path encroach;
Down droops the flow'ret, — and his burning ray
Scorches the workmen o'er the new-mown hay.
Oh! lamp of Heav'n, pursue thy glorious course,
Nor till gray twilight, aught abate thy force.