Song Of The Moon Poem by Claude McKay
Song Of The Moon
The moonlight breaks upon the city's domes,
And falls along cemented steel and stone,
Upon the grayness of a million homes,
Lugubrious in unchanging monotone.
Upon the clothes behind the tenement,
That hang like ghosts suspended from the lines,
Linking each flat to each indifferent,
Incongruous and strange the moonlight shines.
There is no magic from your presence here,
Ho, moon, sad moon, tuck up your trailing robe,
Whose silver seems antique and so severe
Against the glow of one electric globe.
Go spill your beauty on the laughing faces
Of happy flowers that bloom a thousand hues,
Waiting on tiptoe in the wilding spaces,
To drink your wine mixed with sweet drafts of dews.
This classical poem tells us quite beautifully nature's aspects.
Well articuated and nicely brought forth, a beautiful work of art......
This is a splendid poem by an author previously unknown to me. I love the image of the flowers 'waiting on tiptoe'.
This is a beautifully written poem evoking a lot of imagery and the language is very rich. Love it and Claude Mckay has a new fan
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/29/2025 3:23:50 AM # 1.0.0
This presents such a fascinating landscape of a moonlit terrain with a series of inimitable images. I am short of words to express my gratitude.