O fair, full moon! I look close at thy face.

Thou must be happy, being in the skys;

And, yet, thy flush grows pallor to mine eyes.

Thou art as one, who breathless after chase,

Would rest, but dreads to check her onward pace.

O fugitive from where no fledgling flies,

No bee finds bud, and where red billows rise,

Engulfing down dark years, the Human Race!

O thou pale moon, who hast companioned Man

Through every darkness since the night's first fall!

Hast thou, along thy foot-worn, azure wall,

Ever seen seas so hard for hope to span,

As this red surge, that in a spring so small,

A bird could beak it up, its flood began?