THE WIND AND THE MOON.

Said the Wind to the Moon, “I will blow you out!

You stare

In the air

As if crying Beware,

Always looking what I am about:

I hate to be watched; I will blow you out!”

The Wind blew hard, and out went the Moon.

So, deep

On a heap

Of clouds, to sleep

Down lay the Wind, and slumbered soon,

Muttering low, “I've done for that Moon!”

He turned in his bed: she was there again!

On high

In the sky

With her one ghost-eye

The Moon shone white and alive and plain:

Said the Wind, “I will blow you out again!”

The Wind blew hard, and the Moon grew slim.

“With my sledge

And my wedge

I have knocked off her edge!

I will blow,” said the Wind, “right fierce and grim,

And the creature will soon be slimmer than slim!”

He blew and he blew, and she thinned to a thread.

“One puff

More's enough

To blow her to snuff!

One good puff more where the last was bred,

And glimmer, glimmer, glum will go that thread!”

He blew a great blast, and the thread was gone.

In the air

Nowhere

Was a moonbeam bare;

Larger and nearer the shy stars shone:

Sure and certain the Moon was gone!

The Wind he took to his revels once more;

On down

And in town,

A merry-mad clown,

He leaped and holloed with whistle and roar —

When there was that glimmering thread once more!

He flew in a rage — he danced and blew;

But in vain

Was the pain

Of his bursting brain,

For still the Moon-scrap the broader grew

The more that he swelled his big cheeks and blew.

Slowly she grew — till she filled the night,

And shone

On her throne

In the sky alone

A matchless, wonderful, silvery light,

Radiant and lovely, the queen of the night.

Said the Wind, “What a marvel of power am I!

With my breath,

In good faith,

I blew her to death!—

First blew her away right out of the sky,

Then blew her in: what a strength am I!”

But the Moon she knew nought of the silly affair;

For, high

In the sky

With her one white eye,

Motionless miles above the air,

She never had heard the great Wind blare.