Poems About Moon

Art thou pale for weariness Of climbing heaven, and gazing on the earth, Wandering companionless Among the stars that have a different birth,--And ever-changing, like a joyless eyeThat finds no object worth its constancy?

The young May moon is beaming, love,The glow-worm’s lamp is gleaming, love; How sweet to rove Through Morna’s grove,When the drowsy world is dreaming, love!Then awake!--the heavens look bright, my dear,’Tis never too late for delight, my dear; And the best of all ways To lengthen our daysIs to steal a few hours from the night, my dear!

Now all the world is sleeping, love,But the Sage, his star-watch keeping, love, And I, whose star More glorious farIs the eye from that casement peeping, love.Then awake!--till rise of sun, my dear,The Sage’s glass we’ll shun, my dear, Or in watching the flight Of bodies of lightHe might happen to take thee for one, my dear!

Said the Wind to the Moon, "I will blow you out;You stareIn the airLike a ghost in a chair,Always looking what I am about--I hate to be watched; I'll blow you out."

The Wind blew hard, and out went the Moon.So, deepOn a heapOf clouds to sleep,Down lay the Wind, and slumbered soon,Muttering low, "I've done for that Moon."

Thee too, modest tressèd maid, When thy fallen stars appear;When in lawn of fire array’d Sov’reign of yon powder’d sphere;To thee I chant at close of day,Beneath, O maiden Moon! thy ray.

Throned in sapphired ring supreme, Pregnant with celestial juice,On silver wing thy diamond stream Gives what summer hours produce;While view’d impearl’d earth’s rich inlay,Beneath, O maiden Moon! thy ray.

Glad, pale Cynthian wine I sip, Breathed the flow’ry leaves among;Draughts delicious wet my lip; Drown’d in nectar drunk my song;While tuned to Philomel the lay,Beneath, O maiden Moon! thy ray.

Dew, that od’rous ointment yields, Sweets, that western winds disclose,Bathing spring’s more purpled fields, Soft’s the band that winds the rose;While o’er thy myrtled lawns I strayBeneath, O maiden Moon! thy ray.

"Lady Moon, Lady Moon, where are you roving?" "Over the sea.""Lady Moon, Lady Moon, whom are you loving?" "All that love me."

"Are you not tired with rolling and never Resting to sleep?Why look so pale and so sad, as for ever Wishing to weep?"

"Ask me not this, little child, if you love me; You are too boldI must obey my dear Father above me, And do as I'm told."

"Lady Moon, Lady Moon, where are you roving?" "Over the sea.""Lady Moon, Lady Moon, whom are you loving?" "All that love me."

Look how the pale Queen of the silent nightDoth cause the ocean to attend upon her,And he, as long as she is in his sight,With his full tide is ready her to honor:But when the silver wagon of the MoonIs mounted up so high he cannot follow,The sea calls home his crystal waves to moan,And with low ebb doth manifest his sorrow.So you that are the sovereign of my heart,Have all my joys attending on your will,My joys low-ebbing when you do depart,When you return, their tide my heart doth fill.So as you come, and as you do depart,Joys ebb and flow within my tender heart.

Moon, so round and yellow,Looking from on high,How I love to see youShining in the sky.Oft and oft I wonder,When I see you there,How they get to light you,Hanging in the air:

Where you go at morning,When the night is past,And the sun comes peepingO'er the hills at last.Sometime I will watch youSlyly overhead,When you think I'm sleepingSnugly in my bed.

I with borrow'd silver shineWhat you see is none of mine.First I show you but a quarter,Like the bow that guards the Tartar:Then the half, and then the whole,Ever dancing round the pole.

What will raise your admiration,I am not one of God's creation,But sprung, (and I this truth maintain,)Like Pallas, from my father's brain.And after all, I chiefly oweMy beauty to the shades below.Most wondrous forms you see me wear,A man, a woman, lion, bear,A fish, a fowl, a cloud, a field,All figures Heaven or earth can yield;Like Daphne sometimes in a tree;Yet am not one of all you see.

The moon has a face like the clock in the hall;She shines on thieves on the garden wall,On streets and fields and harbour quays,And birdies asleep in the forks of the trees.

The squalling cat and the squeaking mouse,The howling dog by the door of the house,The bat that lies in bed at noon,All love to be out by the light of the moon.

But all of the things that belong to the dayCuddle to sleep to be out of her way;And flowers and children close their eyesTill up in the morning the sun shall arise.

The Crescent-moon, the Star of Love, Glories of evening, as ye there are seen With but a span of sky between-- Speak one of you, my doubts remove,Which is the attendant Page and which the Queen?

CLOSE up the casement, draw the blind, Shut out that stealing moon,She wears too much the guise she wore Before our lutes were strewnWith years-deep dust, and names we read On a white stone were hewn.

Step not out on the dew-dashed lawn To view the Lady’s Chair,Immense Orion’s glittering form, The Less and Greater Bear:Stay in; to such sights we were drawn When faded ones were fair.

Brush not the bough for midnight scents That come forth lingeringly,And wake the same sweet sentiments They breathed to you and meWhen living seemed a laugh, and love All it was said to be.

Within the common lamp-lit room Prison my eyes and thought;Let dingy details crudely loom, Mechanic speech be wrought:Too fragrant was Life’s early bloom, Too tart the fruit it brought!

“WHAT have you looked at, Moon, In your time, Now long past your prime?”“O, I have looked at, often looked at Sweet, sublime,Sore things, shudderful, night and noon In my time.”

“What have you mused on, Moon, In your day, So aloof, so far away?”“O, I have mused on, often mused on Growth, decay,