 | Poems with Fables in Prose |  |
89
The Horn of the Moon
“Iroofed my roof-tree at the wane of the moon
That nothing might warp it or burn it,
And wished a deep wish at the new of the moon
And sealed it where no man should learn it.
That nothing might warp it or burn it,
And wished a deep wish at the new of the moon
And sealed it where no man should learn it.
We stood by the oak at the full of the moon
Where all the far country was clearest,
The bird of the forest kept singing a tune—
The word I would say to my dearest.
Where all the far country was clearest,
The bird of the forest kept singing a tune—
The word I would say to my dearest.
She branded my heart at the new of the moon
And the hurt grew a harm beyond measure,
And I sent her soft gallant, that begged for a boon,
A blade that was red, for his pleasure.
And the hurt grew a harm beyond measure,
And I sent her soft gallant, that begged for a boon,
A blade that was red, for his pleasure.
Bright my love's tresses at full o' the moon,
Nothing in beauty shone rarer,
Sleeping her fill in the face of the moon—
Never a footfall to scare her!
Nothing in beauty shone rarer,
Sleeping her fill in the face of the moon—
Never a footfall to scare her!
But these hands that slew her at rise of the moon
Did mix him with night everlasting . . .
The bird of the forest keeps singing abune
That mine is a care there's no casting.
Did mix him with night everlasting . . .
90
That mine is a care there's no casting.
Hang my powder-horn on the horn o' the moon!
The deer of the bracken may flout me,
The hunt shall be up at the pale of the moon
And the lordings go hunting without me!”
The deer of the bracken may flout me,
The hunt shall be up at the pale of the moon
And the lordings go hunting without me!”
| Poems with Fables in Prose | |