THE moon-flowers, the moon-flowers, to sleepy splash of fountains They open—grey and silver—when the stars come overhead, And if you'd go to Fairyland and find the Peacock Mountains You've got to pick the moon-flowers before you go to bed. Oh, would you go to Nineveh of ancient pomps and palaces, Or see the towers of Ascalon lift spire on aching spire, Or sup with Montezumas—golden plate and jewelled chalices— Or dip your pocket-handkerchief in purple vats of Tyre? Would you sail, a swart Phoenician, On a buccaneering mission (Dig and drive and swing of oar-blades as the plunging triremes go!) Till the sea-rim gives the highlands Of the fern-fringed Happy Islands? Ah, you've first to see the moon-flowers blow! You've missed the Peacock Mountains through the pearl-pink sea-fog shimmering, The turkis-blue and opal that they bind about their brows; You've missed the magic moorings where the flying fish go glimmering And painted dolphins leaping in the tide-rip round the bows; For the bit of wedding-cake, you Said was certain sure to take you, Never got you any further on the road that you should go To the sapphire peaks and gorges Than St. Peter's or St. George's, And you'd never heard of moon-flowers—No! The moon-flowers, the moon-flowers, when first the twilight changes, They open—grey and silver—as the stars come out a-row, So if you'd go to Fairyland and see the Peacock ranges, You've first to face the twilight and watch the moon-flowers blow! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FLUTE-PRIEST SONG FOR RAIN; CEREMONIAL AT THE SUN SPRING by AMY LOWELL THE BLACK MONKEY by KATHERINE MANSFIELD THE SONG OF THE PILGRIMS by RUPERT BROOKE WESSEX HEIGHTS by THOMAS HARDY THE LAY OF THE LABOURER by THOMAS HOOD MY SISTER'S SLEEP by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI |