Stars wheel in purple， yours is not so rare
as Hesperus， nor yet so great a star
as bright Aldeboran or Sirius，
nor yet the stained and brilliant one of War；
stars turn in purple， glorious to the sight；
yours is not gracious as the Pleiads are
nor as Orion's sapphires， luminous；
yet disenchanted， cold， imperious face，
when all the others blighted， reel and fall，
your star， steel-set， keeps lone and frigid tryst
to freighted ships， baffled in wind and blast.