Page:Demeter and other poems (IA demeterotherpoem00tennrich).pdf/63

Twelve times in the year
  Bring me bliss,
Globing Honey Moons
  Bright as this.

Moon, you fade at times
  From the night.
Young again you grow
  Out of sight.

Silver crescent-curve,
  Coming soon,
Globe again, and make
  Honey Moon.

Shall not my love last,
  Moon, with you,
For ten thousand years
  Old and new?