Once lay at the breast of the moon;
I give him an apple of gold
’Twas forged in the fires of the sun;
This apple of copper I give
That Sunset concealed in her hair.
When from the husk of dusk I shake the stars,
Down slumber’s vine I’ll send him dreams in dew,
And peace will overtake him like a song
Like thoughts of love invade a lover’s mind.
The spear-scars of the red world he will wear