Poems on the topic: moon

Poems on the topic “moon” on Poets.by.

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Emily Dickinson

Lightly stepped a yellow star

Lightly stepped a yellow star To its lofty place -- Loosed the Moon her silver hat From her lustral Face -- All of Evening softly lit As an Astral Hall -- Father, I observed to Heaven, You are punctual.

Emily Dickinson

I know some lonely Houses off the Road

I know some lonely Houses off the Road A Robber'd like the look of -- Wooden barred, And Windows hanging low, Inviting to -- A Portico, Where two could creep -- One -- hand the Tools -- The other peep -- To make sure All's Asleep -- Old fashioned eyes -- Not easy to surprise! How orderly the Kitchen'd look, by night, With just a Clock -- But they could gag the Tick -- And Mice won't bark --

Emily Dickinson

The Road was lit with Moon and star --

The Road was lit with Moon and star -- The Trees were bright and still -- Descried I -- by the distant Light A Traveller on a Hill -- To magic Perpendiculars Ascending, though Terrene -- Unknown his shimmering ultimate -- But he indorsed the sheen --

Emily Dickinson

Nature can do no more

Nature can do no more She has fulfilled her Dyes Whatever Flower fail to come Of other Summer days Her crescent reimburse If other Summers be Nature's imposing negative Nulls opportunity --

Emily Dickinson

Which is the best -- the Moon or the Crescent?

Which is the best -- the Moon or the Crescent? Neither -- said the Moon -- That is best which is not -- Achieve it -- You efface the Sheen. Not of detention is Fruition -- Shudder to attain. Transport's decomposition follows -- He is Prism born.

Emily Dickinson

The Moon was but a Chin of Gold

The Moon was but a Chin of Gold A Night or two ago -- And now she turns Her perfect Face Upon the World below -- Her Forehead is of Amplest Blonde -- Her Cheek -- a Beryl hewn -- Her Eye unto the Summer Dew The likest I have known -- Her Lips of Amber never part -- But what must be the smile Upon Her Friend she could confer Were such Her Silver Will -- And what a privilege to be But the remotest Star -- For Certainty She take Her Way Beside Your Palace Door --

Emily Dickinson

The Moon is distant from the Sea

The Moon is distant from the Sea -- And yet, with Amber Hands -- She leads Him -- docile as a Boy -- Along appointed Sands -- He never misses a Degree -- Obedient to Her Eye He comes just so far -- toward the Town -- Just so far -- goes away -- Oh, Signor, Thine, the Amber Hand -- And mine -- the distant Sea -- Obedient to the least command Thine eye impose on me --

Emily Dickinson

You know that Portrait in the Moon --

You know that Portrait in the Moon -- So tell me who 'tis like -- The very Brow -- the stooping eyes -- A fog for -- Say -- Whose Sake? The very Pattern of the Cheek -- It varies -- in the Chin -- But -- Ishmael -- since we met -- 'tis long -- And fashions -- intervene -- When Moon's at full -- 'Tis Thou -- I say -- My lips just hold the name -- When crescent -- Thou art worn -- I note -- But -- there -- the Golden Same -- And when -- Some Night -- Bold -- slashing Clouds Cut Thee away from Me -- That's easier -- than the other film That glazes Holiday --

Emily Dickinson

Summer -- we all have seen --

Summer -- we all have seen -- A few of us -- believed -- A few -- the more aspiring Unquestionably loved -- But Summer does not care -- She goes her spacious way As eligible as the moon To our Temerity -- The Doom to be adored -- The Affluence conferred -- Unknown as to an Ecstasy The Embryo endowed --

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Sonnet 32 - The first time that the sun rose on thine oath

The first time that the sun rose on thine oath To love me, I looked forward to the moon To slacken all those bonds which seemed too soon And quickly tied to make a lasting troth. Quick-loving hearts, I thought, may quickly loathe; And, looking on myself, I seemed not one For such man's love!—more like an out-of-tune Worn viol, a good singer would be wroth To spoil his song with, and which, snatched in haste, Is laid down at the first ill-sounding note. I did not wrong myself so, but I placed A wrong on thee. For perfect strains may float 'Neath master-hands, from instruments defaced,— And great souls, at one stroke, may do and doat.

Emily Bronte

'Tis moonlight, summer moonlight

'Tis moonlight, summer moonlight, All soft and still and fair; The solemn hour of midnight Breathes sweet thoughts everywhere, But most where trees are sending Their breezy boughs on high, Or stooping low are lending A shelter from the sky. And there in those wild bowers A lovely form is laid; Green grass and dew-steeped flowers Wave gently round her head.

Edward Thomas

Liberty

THE last light has gone out of the world, except This moonlight lying on the grass like frost Beyond the brink of the tall elm's shadow It is as if everything else had slept Many an age, unforgotten and lost The men that were, the things done, long ago, All I have thought; and but the moon and I Live yet and here stand idle over the grave Where all is buried. Both have liberty To dream what we could do if we were free To do some thing we had desired long, The moon and I. There's none less free than who Does nothing and has nothing else to do, Being free only for what is not to his mind, And nothing is to his mind. If every hour Like this one passing that I have spent among

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