What Is There In Thee, Moon! That

They Swayed About Upon A Rocking Horse, And Thought It Pegasus.

But The Rose Leaves Herself Upon The Brier, For Winds To Kiss And Grateful Bees To Feed.

O Aching Time! O Moments Big As Years!

I Have Two Luxuries To Brood Over In My Walks, Your Loveliness And The Hour Of My Death. O That I Could Have Possession Of Them Both In The Same Minute.

Soft Closer Of Our Eyes! Low Murmur Of Tender Lullabies!