I MAKE apprizal of the maiden moon For what she is to me: Not a great globe of cheerless stone That hangs in awful space alone, And ever so to be; But just the rarest orb, The very fairest orb, The star most lovely-wise In all the dear night-skies! So thou to me, O jestful girl of June! I have no will to hear Cold calculations of thy worth Summed up in beauty, brain, and birth: Such coldly strike mine ear. Thou art the rarest one, The very fairest one, The soul most lovely-wise That ever looked through eyes! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EXODUS FOR OREGON by CINCINNATUS HEINE MILLER THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 79. THE MONOCHORD by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI AN ESCAPE by LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE ARCHEANASSA by ASCLEPIADES OF SAMOS SPRING IN THE ALPS by MATHILDE BLIND SHADOWS ON THE WALL by ALEXANDER (ALEKSANDR) ALEXANDROVICH BLOK CHERRY-BUDS by GAMALIEL BRADFORD |