A Moon Poem
by Edgar Allen Poe

I saw thee once- once only- years ago:
I must not say how many- but not
    many.
It was a July midnight; and from out
A full-orbed moon, that like thine own
    soul soaring,
Sought a precipitate pathway up through
    heaven,
There fell a silvery silken veil of light,
With quietude, and sultriness and
    slumber,
Upon the upturn'd faces of a thousand
Roses that grew in an enchanted garden,
Where no wind dared to stir, unless on
    tiptoe-
Fell on the upturn'd faces of these
    roses
That gave out, in return for the love-
    light,
Their odorous souls in an ecstatic
    death-
Fell on the upturned faces of these
    roses
That smiled and died in this parterre,
    enchanted
by thee, and by the poetry of thy
    presence.
Clad all in white, upon a violet bank
I saw thee half-reclining; while the
    moon
Fell on the upturn'd faces of the roses,
And on thine own, upturn'd- alas, in
    sorrow!
Was it not Fate, that, on this July mid-
    night-
Was it not Fate (whose name is also
    Sorrow),
That bade me pause before that garden-
    gate,
To breathe the incense of those slum-
    bering roses?
No footstep stirred: the hated world
    all slept,
Save only thee and me. I paused- I
    looked-
And in an instant all things disap-
    peared.
(Ah, bear in mind this garden was
    enchanted!)
The pearly lustre of the moon went
    out:
The mossy banks and the meandering
    paths,
The happy flowers and the repining
    trees,
Were seen no more: the very roses'
    odours
Died in the arms of the adoring airs.
All- all expired save thee- save less
    than thou:
Save only the devine light in thine
    eyes.
I saw but them- they were the world
    to me.
I saw but them- saw only them for
    hours-
Saw only them till the moon went
    down.
What wild heart-histories seemed to lie
    enwritten
Upon those crystalline, celestial spheres!
How dark a woe! yet how sublime a
    hope!
How silently serene a sea of pride!
How adoring an ambition! yet how
    deep-
How fathomless a capacity for love!
But now, at length, dear Dian sank
    from sight,
Into the western couch of a thunder-cloud;
And thou, a ghost, amid entombing
    trees
Didst glide away. only thine eyes
    Remained.
They would not go- they never yet
    have gone.
Lighting my lonely pathway home that
    night,
They have not left me (as my hopes have) since.
They follow me- they lead me through
    the years.
They are my ministers- yet I their
    slave.
Their office is to illuminate and enkindle-
My duty, to be saved by their bright
    light
And purified in their electric fire,
And sanctified in their elysian fire.
They fill my soul with Beauty (which
    is Hope.)
And are far up in Heaven- the stars
    I kneel to
In the sad, slient watches of my night;
While even in the meridian glare of day
I see them still- two sweetly scintillant
Venuses, unextinguished by the sun!

Sonnet of the Moon
by Charles Best, 1608

Look how the pale Queen of the silent night
doth cause the ocean to attend upon her,
and he, as long as she is in sight,
with his full tide is ready here to honor;

But when the silver waggon of the Moon
is mounted up so high he cannot follow,
the sea calls home his crystal waves to morn,
and with low ebb doth manifest his sorrow.

So you that are sovereign of my heart
have all my joys attending on your will,
when you return, their tide my heart doth fill.
So as you come and as you depart,
joys ebb and flow within my tender heart.

(The poetry found on this page is in the public domain.)

If you like what you see drop me some mail!