 | Joaquin Miller's Poems |  |
XVI
The moon, amid her yellow fleet,With full, white sail, moved on and on,
And drew, as loving hearts are drawn,
All seas of earth fast following,
As slow she sailed her sapphire seas.
Then, as if pausing, pitying,
She poured down at their very feet
Broad silver ways to walk upon
Which way they would, or east or west,
Which way they would, or worst or best.
| Joaquin Miller's Poems | |