When I behold the silver crusted sky
you turn away, too shamed to meet my gaze.
Oh Merope, I bid thee do not cry -
What kindles your sidereal malaise?
Is it Orion’s chase that makes thee weep?
Did marrying a mortal bring you shame?
Each night before Erebus fosters sleep
I seek the wellhead whence your sorrow came.
Amidst the navy cloth of night you gleam,
A glowing sapphire stitched on heaven’s cloak.
Yet pulchritude does not beget esteem -
Your heart lies scorched ‘midst clouds of stellar smoke.
Switch off your starry light and let me be
your constellation for eternity.