The Star

If, in the light of things, you fade
real, yet wanly withdrawn
to our determined and appropriate
distance, like the moon left on
all night among the leaves, may
you invisibly delight this house;
O star, doubly compassionate, who came
too soon for twilight, too late
for dawn, may your pale flame
direct the worst in us
through chaos
with the passion of
plain day.




"Star" by Derek Walcott from Collected Poems 1948-1984. Copyright © 1986 by Derek Walcott. Reprinted with the permission of Farrar, Straus & Giroux.