Pretty new moon, white new moon, What do you bring in your horn? Silver light to paint black night As fair as the early dawn? Sweet new moon, pretty new moon, Where did you harvest your rays? In the deeps of dark were you but a spark Till the sun shone along your ways? Fair new moon, kind new moon, Will my wish come true some day, When you're but a ghost of yourself, at the most, And your glory passes away? Mary N. Prescott. Divider |