The crescent has surpassed

The crescent has surpassed
The constellation’s might
And grown in plenitude
With arduous labour.

In vain does a bud
Blossom in confined air,
If it., bloom has been
Denied the rays of the sun.

If thy eye is pure,
So will be thy heart,
For the heart mirrors, all
That the eye ever sees.

The mountain flower grows not
In gardens well trimmed,
Despising,, to keep company
With meaner growths oil earth.

Who cares for the wars,
Fought by mighty kings?
But the songs of mortal poets
Enjoy an immortal fame.