Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

MOONLIGHT by CLARK B. FIRESTONE

First Line: I WALKED IN THE MOON-ENTHRALLED MEADOW
Last Line: THAT FELL UPON ALLEYS AND CLOSES.
I walked in the moon-enthralled meadow,
In a moon-bedrenched valley of dream;
It was moonlight of cults too responsive,
The heifer-horned moon of the pagans,
And witch trails were laid by the moonlight,
And sorceries woven in moonlight,
And blandishment beckoned from moonlight
To deeds that I durst not misdeem.

I stood in a moon-haunted forest
On the moonlighted margin of sleep;
The moon was a vessel Etruscan,
A measureless urn and a golden,
That poured forth a flood of enchantments,
Of mystery, magic and moonlight;
But a dragon cloud clasped and engulfed it
And plunged me in deep upon deep.

I mused in a moon-ravished garden,
All moonlight and ruinous roses
And alleys of odor and moonlight;
Foregone was the malice of moonlight,
Forgiven the face in the moonlight,
And haggard the beauty of moonlight,
The wistful, the tolerant moonlight
That fell upon alleys and closes.



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