The Song of the Moon

Clouds like the petals of a rose,
Open slowly and disclose
The golden heart of the moon;
The waves grow soft upon the sand,
The wind dies down upon the land,
Beauty and silence weave a tune
Out of the petals of the moon.

Over the breasts of waves,
Her petals fall;
Silvery crested billows
Meet and melt in her soft embrace;
Pale and proud as a woman, her face
Shines through the misty willows.
O golden heart of the moon!
Whispers the leafy tune;
And the pine-trees tall
Reach high and call
Till over them lightly as soft as day,
Or rose-colored blossoms of the May,
Over the pine-trees dark and tall,
The golden petals fall.