New Moon
The baby moon lies curled up on a cloud's lap, Kicking its golden heels: I think I hear it crowing to the stars.
Leonora Speyer
The baby moon lies curled up on a cloud's lap, Kicking its golden heels: I think I hear it crowing to the stars.
In just three lines, Leonora Speyer turns the new moon into a tiny baby. It lies curled in a cloud’s lap, kicking its golden heels — the thin crescent looks like small bright limbs moving against the sky.
Les hele sammendraget