The art of dumping a star
“O powerful western fallen star!
O shades of night! O moody, tearful night!
O great star disappear’d! O the black murk that hides the star!
O cruel hands that hold me powerless! O helpless soul of me!
O harsh surrounding cloud, that will not free my soul!”
(W. Whitman in When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d)