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Poem	The old moon is tarnished With smoke of the flood, The dead leaves are varnished With colour like blood. A treacherous smiler With teeth white as milk, A savage beguiler In sheathings of silk The sea creeps to pillage, She leaps on her prey; A child of the village Was murdered today. She came up to meet him In a smooth golden cloak, She choked him and beat him to death, for a joke. Her bright locks were tangled, She shouted for joy With one hand she strangled A strong little boy. Now in silence she lingers Beside him all night To wash her long fingers In silvery light.
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