Classic Poem

The wind drove the moon
To a sky-built cave,
And closed it up
As it were her grave.
The cave threw wide
A silver portal—
And forth she came,
Serene, immortal!

He piled black clouds
In angry might,
Till lost in gloom
Was all her light.
The clouds a moment
Held her under;
Then, glorified,
They burst asunder!

The wind, that night,
Bemoaned and whistled
Till all the forest
Stirred and bristled;
While moonbeams stole
To tear-wet pillows,
And found their way
Through grave-yard willows.