IT WAS THE LOVELY MOON

It was the lovely moon — she lifted

Slowly her white brow among

Bronze cloud-waves that ebbed and drifted

Faintly, faintlier afar.

Calm she looked, yet pale with wonder,

Sweet in unwonted thoughtfulness,

Watching the earth that dwindled under

Faintly, faintlier afar.

It was the lovely moon that lovelike

Hovered over the wandering, tired

Earth, her bosom gray and dovelike,

Hovering beautiful as a dove....

The lovely moon:— her soft light falling

Lightly on roof and poplar and pine —

Tree to tree whispering and calling,

Wonderful in the silvery shine

Of the round, lovely, thoughtful moon.