Starmere shining silver bright,
Across long watches of the night,
Countless gems of purest light,
Sunk still ‘neath sea, lost save by sight.
Star-near hanging nigh and low,
O’er looming hill of wound and woe.
Soft sweet songs of birds drift slow
near shore, notes none other now know.
Star-clear cold, as dreamless sleep,
Rolls over darkened fathoms deep.
