What are you doing, little day-moon,
Over the April hill?
What are you doing, up so soon,
Climbing the sky with silver shoon?
What are you doing, at half-past noon,
Slipping along so still?

Are you so eager, the heights unwon,
That you cannot wait,
But, unheeding of wind and sun,
Out of your nest of night must run,
Up where the day is far from done,
Shy little shadow-mate?

Up and away then—with young mists
Tripping, along the blue!
Dance and dally and promise trysts
Unto each your delight enlists;
For, little moon, not a one but wists
April's the time to woo!