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The Gypsy Star
25
Oh, Mars may burn to dusk and Venus may rise from shadow
And even the Moon that hated me forget as she lifts the tide,
Yet what if they gleam or fade, and what if they stay or wander? . . .
Alas, my wandering Gypsy Star that faded and flamed and died!
And even the Moon that hated me forget as she lifts the tide,
Yet what if they gleam or fade, and what if they stay or wander? . . .
Alas, my wandering Gypsy Star that faded and flamed and died!
