Classic Poem

FIRST C OMMUNION

The little clouds are all in white
To-day:
They kneel at God's high blue altar
To receive the moon.

New M OON

The baby moon lies curled up on a cloud's lap,
Kicking its golden heels:
I think I hear it crowing to the stars.

S KYWAY R OBBERY

Night, leaning there upon the hills,
What robber cloud has dared?

The great white pearl you wore,
Hung from your glittering chain of stars,
Is gone:
And in its place a red wound drips
Its anguished light.

G OLD-FISH

The stars are like gold-fish in a deep blue bowl,
Swimming round and round the centuries.

Sometimes one dies of the hot summer night;
I watch it falling —
Fading —

And I watch the others,
Floating in their blue bowl,
Eternally golden,
Immortally indifferent.