Stanisław Masłowski (1853-1926), Wschód księżyca (Moonrise), 1884 (via Wikimedia)

The Moon, how definite its orb!
Yet gaze again, and with a steady gaze—
‘Tis there indeed,—but where is it not?—
It is suffused o’er all the sapphire Heaven,
Trees, herbage, snake-like stream, unwrinkled Lake,
Whose very murmur does of it partake
And low and close the broad smooth mountain
Is more a thing of Heaven than when
Distinct by one dim shade and yet undivided from the universal cloud
In which it towers, finite in height.

—Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834), ‘Fragment 6’