Steady.

The Moon, how definite its orb!


Yet gaze again, and with a steady gaze--


'Tis there indeed,--but where is it not?--


It is suffused o'er all the sapphire Heaven,


Trees, herbage, snake-like stream, unwrinkled Lake,


Whose very murmur does of it partake


And low and close the broad smooth mountain


Is more a thing of Heaven than when


Distinct by one dim shade and yet undivided from the universal cloud


In which it towers, finite in height.

- Samuel Taylor Coleridge