The stars were glittering in the heaven's dusk meadows,
Far west, among those flowers of the shadows,
The thin, clear crescent lustrous over her,
Made Ruth raise question, looking through the bars
Of heaven, with eyes half-oped, what God, what comer
Unto the harvest of the eternal summer,
Had flung his golden hook down on the field of stars.
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The moon pull'd off her veil of light,
That hides her face by day from sight
(Mysterious read more
The moon pull'd off her veil of light,
That hides her face by day from sight
(Mysterious veil, of brightness made,)
That's both her lustre and her shade),
And in the lantern of the night,
With shining horns hung out her light.
And hail their queen, fair regent of the night.
And hail their queen, fair regent of the night.
Reach for the moon, because if you don't make it you'll land among the stars.
Reach for the moon, because if you don't make it you'll land among the stars.
The moon is at her full, and riding high,
Floods the calm fields with light.
The airs read more
The moon is at her full, and riding high,
Floods the calm fields with light.
The airs that hover in the summer sky
Are all asleep to-night.
The moon, the moon, so silver and cold,
Her fickle temper has oft been told,
Now shade--now read more
The moon, the moon, so silver and cold,
Her fickle temper has oft been told,
Now shade--now bright and sunny--
But of all the lunar things that change,
The one that shows most fickle and strange,
And takes the most eccentric range,
Is the moon--so called--of honey!
Now Cynthia, named fair regent of the night.
Now Cynthia, named fair regent of the night.
The sun had sunk and the summer skies
Were dotted with specks of light
That melted soon read more
The sun had sunk and the summer skies
Were dotted with specks of light
That melted soon in the deep moon-rise
That flowed over Groton Height.
Soon as the evening shades prevail,
The moon takes up the wondrous tale,
And nightly to the read more
Soon as the evening shades prevail,
The moon takes up the wondrous tale,
And nightly to the listening earth
Repeats the story of her birth.
When the hollow drum has beat to bed
And the little fifer hangs his head,
When all read more
When the hollow drum has beat to bed
And the little fifer hangs his head,
When all is mute the Moorish flute,
And nodding guards watch wearily,
On, then let me,
From prison free,
March out by moonlight cheerily.
