Night Of The Crescent Moon Poem by Patrick Sunday

1st Verse:
'When My Life Hath All But Lost,
A Barren Fleet Of A Weeping Man.
And The Moon Hath To My Eye Lost,
With Several Journeys Of No Strand.'

'Within These Four Walls I Thus Tarried,
Hoping That Tis Gaze May Fetch A Glimpse Of Her.
And The Good Old Memories We Lived On Various Siege,
Were All But Gone By Wind's Chaff! '

'Though The Winds May Frown,
a Soul Left To Die Hath No Loss.
Hath I Besieged Naught My Queen And Crown,
Words Need Not Say Much!
For This Sea Where Endless Hath But Drowned,
For What Awaits I'd Gladly Give With No Cost!

'Alas!
My Paddling Reached Me To The Shores,
And To Behold My Eyes,
A Figure Dressed In Red Top;
Could It Be She Whom My Soul Doth Lunged? ,
Nor She That My Efforts Find? '

'Behold As I Heaved Slowly, Ripping The Veils Off Her Head;
She Was Non Other Than My Leslie,
Her Beauty Which Hath For Years So Fair A Spotless Sheet,
Once Again Returned A New Leaf! '