TO THE MOON.

New Zealand Tablet, 14 August 1919, Page 9

TO THE MOON.

Were yon, when to imperial Phoebus wed, Like Proserpine, a scared, reluctant bride? And is it. home-sick yearning by his side For some flower-jewelled Eima, where one© sped Your blissful maiden hours, drains all the red From your sweet lips ?—the threne of Death and Birth Harsh winds waft from the pain-taut strings of Earthy Which in such sadness bows your pensive head ? Or does remembrance, haunting even yet, Of that still night, when, daring to arise O'er Olivet's dark mount, you gazed upon A prostrate Figure bathed in bloody sweat, Embalm the sorrow in your limpid eyes, And keep your tear-stained cheeks for ever wan ? -•"'■•*■>;■■■*/ . —K. M. Murphy,- in Studies.