Alfred Lord Tennyson

Move eastward, happy earth, and leave
   Your orange sunset waning slow;
From fringes of the faded eve,
   O, happy planet, eastward go;
Till over thy dark shoulder glow
   Thy silver sister-world, and rise
   To glass herself in dewy eyes
That watch me from the glen below.

Ah, bear me with thee, smoothly born,
  Dip forward under starry light,
And move me to my marriage-morn,
   And round again to happy night.