THE HARVEST MOON.

Otago Witness, Issue 2975, 22 March 1911, Page 70

THE HARVEST MOON.

Thou harvest moon, from distant heights Of glory beaming brightly down, Full many a scene thy beauty lights By forest, mountain, vale, and town! One silvery star still pursues Thy track—a. gem of rarest glow— Like a faithful friend, True to (he end— Through life and death, through weal and woe — A type of only on© I knew — My childhood's friend I dread to lose. Thou harvest moon, more radiant far Than others, howso'er fair They seem, while thy attendant star Outrivals, charms her sisters near— A wave of shining calm: o'er earth Thy gentle presence mildly throws, While vale and hill, Sea, wood, and rill, Are wrapped in beauty's light repose. What worlds of love thy looks disclose! -Now veiled, now bursting forth in mirth, A flood of splendour lights the sea, Till wan foam spirits weirdly rise From out its billows. Nigh to me They draw, and stare with spectral eyes, The treacherous sea that now I hate As much as I had loved before — A traitor's brow It weareth now, As harvest moonlight wraps its shore— As breaking hearts their ills deplore, And cold waves sneer the words "Too late!" But, fair-faced maiden, fold and fold Thy sheeny robes o'er all are cast; Pale empress, proud, majestic, cold, While these thy harvest beauties last I still shall walk abroad with thee, And note the glories earth receives— But once thy reign Appears to wane, And darkness broods through winter eves, I'll sit and muse while sorrow weaves Its chain across the dismal set! —Shamrock.