Lend me thy pen
To write a word
In the moonlight.
Pierrot, my friend!
My candle's out,
I've no more fire;--
For love of God
Open thy door!
[Fr., Au clair de la lune
Mon ami Pierrot,
Prete moi ta plume
Pour ecrire un mot;
Ma chandelle est morte,
Je n'ai plus de feu,
Ouvre moi ta porte,
Pour l'amour de Dieu.]
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How like a queen comes forth the lonely Moon
From the slow opening curtains of the clouds
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How like a queen comes forth the lonely Moon
From the slow opening curtains of the clouds
Walking in beauty to her midnight throne!
As the moon's fair image quaketh
In the raging waves of ocean,
Whilst she, in the vault read more
As the moon's fair image quaketh
In the raging waves of ocean,
Whilst she, in the vault of heaven,
Moves with silent peaceful motion.
Reach for the moon, because if you don't make it you'll land among the stars.
Reach for the moon, because if you don't make it you'll land among the stars.
The moon is at her full, and riding high,
Floods the calm fields with light.
The airs read more
The moon is at her full, and riding high,
Floods the calm fields with light.
The airs that hover in the summer sky
Are all asleep to-night.
'Tis midnight now. The bend and broken moon, batter'd and black, as from a thousand battles, hangs silent on the read more
'Tis midnight now. The bend and broken moon, batter'd and black, as from a thousand battles, hangs silent on the purple walls of Heaven.
Mother of light! how fairly dost thou go
Over those hoary crests, divinely led!
Art thou that read more
Mother of light! how fairly dost thou go
Over those hoary crests, divinely led!
Art thou that huntress of the silver bow
Fabled of old? Or rather dost thou tread
Those cloudy summits thence to gaze below,
Like the wild chamois from her Alpine snow,
Where hunters never climbed--secure from dread?
The moon looks upon many night flowers; the night flowers see but one moon.
The moon looks upon many night flowers; the night flowers see but one moon.
The stars were glittering in the heaven's dusk meadows,
Far west, among those flowers of the shadows,
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The stars were glittering in the heaven's dusk meadows,
Far west, among those flowers of the shadows,
The thin, clear crescent lustrous over her,
Made Ruth raise question, looking through the bars
Of heaven, with eyes half-oped, what God, what comer
Unto the harvest of the eternal summer,
Had flung his golden hook down on the field of stars.
He who would see old Hoghton right
Must view it by the pale moonlight.
He who would see old Hoghton right
Must view it by the pale moonlight.
