THE HUNTRESS OF STARS

by: George Sterling (1869-1926)

ELL me, O Night! what horses hale the moon!

Those of the sun rear now on Syria's day,

But here the steeds of Artemis delay

At heavenly rivers hidden from the noon,

Or quench their starry thirst at cisterns hewn

In midnight's deepest sapphire, ere she slay

The Bull, and hide the Pleiades' dismay,

Or drown Orion in a silver swoon.

 

Are those the stars, and not their furious eyes,

That now before her coming chariot glare?

Is that their nebulous, phantasmal breath

Trailed like a mist upon the winter skies,

Or vapors from a Titan's pyre of death--

Far-wafted on the orbit of Altair?

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