THE moon was but a chin of gold A night or two ago, And now she turns her perfect face Upon the world below. Her forehead is of amplest blond; Her cheek like beryl stone; Her eye unto the summer dew The likest I have known. Her lips of amber never part; But what must be the smile Upon her friend she could bestow Were such her silver will! And what a privilege to be But the remotest star! For certainly her way might pass Beside your twinkling door. Her bonnet is the firmament, The universe her shoe, The stars the trinkets at her belt, Her dimities of blue. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SUMMER WIND by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT ON THE DEATH OF RICHARD WEST by THOMAS GRAY THE FALLOW DEER AT THE LONELY HOUSE by THOMAS HARDY CARILLON by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 7 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI ARIEL'S SONG (2), FR. THE TEMPEST by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE THE PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION: BOOK 2 by MARK AKENSIDE |