Beauty of the Moon

The moon, an island in the sea of space Rimmed far across with whitest, softest foam Upon its surface, flat, for countless days Mysterious, thick mists, like shadows roam To the high heavens, the sole stepping stone A flower blossoming in silver light That by itself, could set off all alone The deep, dark pall embodying the night O, moon, o moon, a tulip swaying free A lovely, gracious, gentle, beloved maid A drop of budding dew upon night's lea A tree of snow-white leaves sprouting night's shade O, moon, o moon, a skipper with flags, white A kite with lovely, alabaster plume Wandering, companionless the night There’s no word to do justice to the moon © 2013 Gleb Zavlanov