Poems (Jenkins)/Moonlight

by Elinor Jenkins

For works with similar titles, see Moonlight.

Moonlight

EVEN as walk on middle earth The shades of the unquiet dead That loathe the graves allotted them from birth And wander without end, uncomforted; So the dead moon, poor restless rover That died by fire, long, long ago, Wanders forlorn the steeps of heaven over; With death's despair and life's outwearied woe She journeys, a reluctant lustre givingTo this world's throbbing life and strong,And, being dead, envieth all things living, And sheds a passing death her beams along. To that weird corpse-light worse than dark, All fair things for a little die; The spell-bound earth lies, colourless and stark, Beneath the wan ghost witch's jealous eye.