Not By the Moon At Night
Not by the moon at night, nor unforgiving
Light of day, shall my love for you fade.
In the misery of winter, you warm my soul;
In the blaze of summer, thoughts of you
Sooth my fevered mind. As the seasons take
Their order through each passing year, so
Memories of you are cloaked to fit my
Passing mood. In the full harvest moon,
Softly gold, I am nostalgic, gentle tear at
My cheek. When the new moon in spring
Shows its slivered crescent my hopes spring anew,
To burn with passion in a summer full moon.
But in winter, the moon’s silver light gives
No colour to my thoughts, and I die a little.
Copyright © Edward Clapham | Year Posted 2016
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