WHEN, every dawn, the homeless breeze Creeps back to wake the sleeping trees, The moon steals down and no one sees. Yes! in the morn, no watcher there, She turns a face, once angel fair, And smiles as only wantons dare! I saw her once, the insatiate moon, Go stealing, coiffed in orange hood, From Night, her lover, still in swoon -- All wicked she, who once was good! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONGS OF TRAVEL: 46. EVENSONG by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON THE MORAL FABLES: THE TALE OF THE COCK, AND THE JEWEL by AESOP THE RUNAWAY by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES PSALM 42. QUEMADMODUM by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE PSALME 137 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE QUATRAIN by CHARLES GRANGER BLANDEN |