The Moon

Behold!

The moon rises over the pallid sea and
The silvery mist of the meadows –
Silently one by one,
In the infinite meadows of heaven,
Blossoms the lovely stars –
The forget-me-nots of the angels

Her level rays, like golden bars
Lie on the ground below
An eerie green with
Wild shadows cast in brown in between.
Silver white the waters gleam,
As if Artemis herself,
In enpassioned dreams,
Has dropped her silver bow
Down upon the quiet earth.


A very soft spirit worships -
One lovers know and love so well –
Whose influence over
All tides of soul has true power, and
Who lends a pale light to
Rapture and despair;

The glow of hope and wan hue of sick fancy
Are each reflected within the mirror of slivered rays
Lighting the path of meeting or of parting love -
Illuminating the mingling of and
The breaking of hearts one in the same…
An ethereal smile enthroned in beauty.


In the same breath,
The governess of floods -
Pale in her anger –
Washes all the air
That rheumatic diseases do abound.

Through this fit of temper,
We do see the seasons alter