The garden is steeped in moonlight, Full to its high edges with brimming silver, And the fish-ponds brim and darken And run in little serpent lights soon extinguished. Lily-pads lie upon the surface, beautiful as the tarnishings on frail old silver, And the Harvest moon droops heavily out of the sky, A ripe, white melon, intensely, magnificently, shining. Your window is orange in the moonlight, It glows like a lamp behind the branches of the old wistaria, It burns like a lamp before a shrine, The small, intimate, familiar shrine Placed reverently among the bricks Of a much-loved garden wall. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHERE MY BOOKS GO by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS HUGH SELWYN MAUBERLEY: 5 by EZRA POUND CELIA'S HOMECOMING by AGNES MARY F. ROBINSON THE WANDERING JEW by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 86. LOST DAYS by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE MORAL FABLES: THE SWALLOW, AND THE OTHER BIRDS by AESOP |