IV.In Praise of Gloriana's Remarkable Golden Hair The gleaming head of one fine friend Is bent above my little song, So through the treasure-pits of Heaven In fancy's shoes, I march along.
I wander, seek and peer and ponder In Splendor's last ensnaring lair --'Mid burnished harps and burnished crowns Where noble chariots gleam and flare:
Amid the spirit-coins and gems, The plates and cups and helms of fire --The gorgeous-treasure-pits of Heaven --
Where angel-misers slake desire!
O endless treasure-pits of gold Where silly angel-men make mirth --I think that I am there this hour, Though walking in the ways of earth!
Fourth SectionTwenty Poems in which the Moon is the Principal Figure of SpeechOnce More -- To GlorianaGirl with the burning golden eyes, And red-bird song, and snowy throat:
I bring you gold and silver moons And diamond stars, and mists that float.
I bring you moons and snowy clouds, I bring you prairie skies to-night To feebly praise your golden eyes And red-bird song, and throat so white.
First Section: Moon Poems for the Children/Fairy-tales for the ChildrenI.Euclid Old Euclid drew a circle On a sand-beach long ago.
He bounded and enclosed it With angles thus and so.
His set of solemn greybeards Nodded and argued much Of arc and of circumference, Diameter and such.
A silent child stood by them From morning until noon Because they drew such charming Round pictures of the moon.
II.The Haughty Snail-king(What Uncle William told the Children)Twelve snails went walking after night.
They'd creep an inch or so, Then stop and bug their eyes And blow.
Some folks...are...deadly...slow.
Twelve snails went walking yestereve, Led by their fat old king.
They were so dull their princeling had No sceptre, robe or ring --Only a paper cap to wear When nightly journeying.
This king-snail said: "I feel a thought Within....It blossoms soon....
O little courtiers of mine,...
I crave a pretty boon....
Oh, yes...(High thoughts with effort come And well-bred snails are ALMOST dumb.)"I wish I had a yellow crown As glistering...as...the moon."III.What the Rattlesnake Said The moon's a little prairie-dog.
He shivers through the night.
He sits upon his hill and cries For fear that *I* will bite.
The sun's a broncho.He's afraid Like every other thing, And trembles, morning, noon and night, Lest *I* should spring, and sting.
IV.The Moon's the North Wind's Cooky(What the Little Girl Said)The Moon's the North Wind's cooky.
He bites it, day by day, Until there's but a rim of scraps That crumble all away.
The South Wind is a baker.
He kneads clouds in his den, And bakes a crisp new moon *that...greedy North...Wind...eats...again!*V.Drying their Wings(What the Carpenter Said)The moon's a cottage with a door.
Some folks can see it plain.
Look, you may catch a glint of light, A sparkle through the pane, Showing the place is brighter still Within, though bright without.
There, at a cosy open fire Strange babes are grouped about.
The children of the wind and tide --
The urchins of the sky, Drying their wings from storms and things So they again can fly.
VI.What the Gray-winged Fairy Said The moon's a gong, hung in the wild, Whose song the fays hold dear.
Of course you do not hear it, child.
It takes a FAIRY ear.
The full moon is a splendid gong That beats as night grows still.
It sounds above the evening song Of dove or whippoorwill.
VII.Yet Gentle will the Griffin Be(What Grandpa told the Children)The moon? It is a griffin's egg, Hatching to-morrow night.
And how the little boys will watch With shouting and delight To see him break the shell and stretch And creep across the sky.
The boys will laugh.The little girls, I fear, may hide and cry.
Yet gentle will the griffin be, Most decorous and fat, And walk up to the milky way And lap it like a cat.
Second Section: The Moon is a MirrorI.Prologue.A Sense of Humor No man should stand before the moon To make sweet song thereon, With dandified importance, His sense of humor gone.
Nay, let us don the motley cap, The jester's chastened mien, If we would woo that looking-glass And see what should be seen.
O mirror on fair Heaven's wall, We find there what we bring.
So, let us smile in honest part And deck our souls and sing.
Yea, by the chastened jest alone Will ghosts and terrors pass, And fays, or suchlike friendly things, Throw kisses through the glass.
II.On the Garden-wall Oh, once I walked a garden In dreams.'Twas yellow grass.
And many orange-trees grew there In sand as white as glass.
The curving, wide wall-border Was marble, like the snow.
I walked that wall a fairy-prince And, pacing quaint and slow, Beside me were my pages, Two giant, friendly birds.
Half-swan they were, half peacock.
They spake in courtier-words.
Their inner wings a chariot, Their outer wings for flight, They lifted me from dreamland.
We bade those trees good-night.
Swiftly above the stars we rode.
I looked below me soon.
The white-walled garden I had ruled Was one lone flower -- the moon.
III.Written for a Musician Hungry for music with a desperate hunger I prowled abroad, I threaded through the town;The evening crowd was clamoring and drinking, Vulgar and pitiful -- my heart bowed down --Till I remembered duller hours made noble By strangers clad in some surprising grace.
Wait, wait, my soul, your music comes ere midnight Appearing in some unexpected place With quivering lips, and gleaming, moonlit face.
IV.The Moon is a Painter He coveted her portrait.
He toiled as she grew gay.
She loved to see him labor In that devoted way.
And in the end it pleased her, But bowed him more with care.
Her rose-smile showed so plainly, Her soul-smile was not there.
That night he groped without a lamp To find a cloak, a book, And on the vexing portrait By moonrise chanced to look.
The color-scheme was out of key, The maiden rose-smile faint, But through the blessed darkness She gleamed, his friendly saint.
The comrade, white, immortal, His bride, and more than bride --The citizen, the sage of mind, For whom he lived and died.
