Moon-Song Poem by John Bannister Tabb

Ave! 'Tis the maiden moon
To the westward wending,
There to sink, alas, too soon
With her star attending.
Doth he linger o'er her dreams
While her silvern taper teems?
Sleep their dusk-divided beams
One in beauty blending?


Vale! She hath drunken deep
Of a draught forbidden!
More than memory can weep
Hath the darkness chidden.
Sleepless Sorrow from the night
Drives her forth, a phantom white,
Withering beneath the blight
Of a wound heart-hidden.