To watch for the old-new moon;
I hear them whispering—“Hush, be still,
It is coming, coming soon;
Coming, coming soon!”
The brown thrush sings to his small brown wife
Who broods below on her nest,
“Of all the wide world and of all my life,
It is you I love the best,
You I love the best!”
But the baby moon is wide awake,