FLOWER of the moon! Still white is her brow whom we worshiped on earth long ago; Yea, purer than pearls in deep seas, and more virgin than snow. The dull years veil their eyes from her shining, and vanish afraid, Nor profane her with age -- the immortal, nor dim her with shade. It is we are unworthy, we worldlings, to dwell in her ways; We have broken her altars and silenced her voices of praise. She hath hearkened to singing more silvern, seen raptures more bright; To some planet more pure she hath fled on the wings of the night,-- Flower of the moon! Yet she loveth the world that forsook her, for, lo! once a year She, Diana, translucent, pale, scintillant, down from her sphere Floateth earthward like star-laden music, to bloom in a flower, And our hearts feel the spell of the goddess once more for an hour. See! she sitteth in splendor nor knoweth desire nor decay, And the night is a glory around her more bright than the day, And her breath hath the sweetness of worlds where no sorrow is known; And we long as we worship to follow her back to her own, -- Flower of the moon! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MACFLECKNOE; OR, A SATIRE UPON THE TRUE-BLUE-PROTESTANT POET by JOHN DRYDEN THE MOWER TO THE GLOW-WORMS by ANDREW MARVELL SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: EDITOR WHEDON by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE COLISEUM by EDGAR ALLAN POE OPEN THY HEART by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS |