THE fickle Moon has left the skies;
But Night's blue veil with stars is sprinkled,
And every little twinkler tries
To twinkle as he'd never twinkled.

O, now's the hour for Love to pour,
And Beauty hear his vows supernal;
No Moon will glint of change to hint,
And stars but hint of things eternal.

Joseph Skipsey

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-lucky-hour/