Ringleted gold,
Whiteness of whiteness,
Wherefore so cold?
Silent you sit there—
Spirit and mould—
Darkening the dream
That must never be told!
[A MARCH MOON]
A March moon
Over the mountain crest,
Ringleted gold,
Whiteness of whiteness,
Wherefore so cold?
Silent you sit there—
Spirit and mould—
Darkening the dream
That must never be told!
A March moon
Over the mountain crest,