Once again, an old scrawling rediscovered

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In Our Stars

I never knew Jupiter
I never knew Mars
I only knew Orion's belt --
My old friends, three stars,
Sleeping on the deodar's boughs,
The winter windchime;
I thought I'd come away,
But changed my mind each time.

All that's holy, stark and true
Can love me by daylight
But the lies of merriment
Have me for the night.
Lies are brave martyrs --
To know that conscious thought
Can wash away the glory days
In sweet deception wrought.
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This was buried somewhere deep in my Google Keep. Found, titled, punctuated, posted.