THE grace of the moon is Born monthly, my dear, If our light the less soon is Put out, re-appear Will it never Nor ever In thin crescence peep To dispel the long sleep. Then, while we are living, Tease not but kiss; A thousand times giving Renewal of bliss: Neither measured Nor treasured Can love be, whose grace More embraceth than space. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AMERICA (1) by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT STREET LANTERNS by MARY ELIZABETH COLERIDGE SOTTO VOCE; TO EDWARD THOMAS by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE THE BARON'S LAST BANQUET by ALBERT GORTON GREENE THE SHEPHEARDES CALENDER: JANUARY by EDMUND SPENSER AT PORT ROYAL by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER AT THE GRAVE OF BURNS; SEVEN YEARS AFTER HIS DEATH by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH |