The Moon Falling Poem by Rubius Nox

Patient faithful, ancient moon,
Why must thou thus,
Through oracles, and through doubt, summon me?

Must to thy motions, brooder’s seasons pace?
Pure spirited heir, come glorify
Fervent sages, and beamed ‘prentices,
Go tell Hermes that the mendicant can sleep,
Call city fires to bloom,
Dream, all unique, no season knows, nor the divine,
Nor breath, tide, polar night, which are the robes of time.

Thy gaze, so mythic and slight
Why shouldn’t thou know?
I could eclipse and still recall the glow,
But that I would not lose the soul so long:
If then silver has not gilded thine,
Look, and tomorrow late, tell me.
Whether both truth and wonder,
Be where thou leftst them, or nest here with me.
Ask for those measures which thou revered yesterday,
And thou shalt renew: All in one being complete.

She is, and masked am I,
All white as night.
Kings will one day change us; compared to this,
All inventions mimic, all beauties common.
Thou, moon, art half as lonely as we,
In that the world's contracted thus;
This age requires humility, and since thy duties be
To humble the world, that's done in me.
Reflect honest light here, and thou art everywhere;
This mind thy center be, this aspect, thy sphere.