The Planet and the Tree

The evening breeze is blowing from the lea
Upon the fluttering elm — thou hast a mind,
O star! methinks, to settle in the tree —
But, ever baffled by the pettish wind,
Thou movest back and forward, and I find
A pastime for my thoughts in watching thee;
In thy vast orbit thou art rolling now,
And wottest not how to my human eye
Thou seemest flouted by a waving bough,
Serving my fancy's needs right pleasantly;
Thou wottest not — but He who made thee knows
Of all thy fair results both far and near,
Of all thine earthly, all thine heavenly shows —
The expression of thy beauty there and here.