I have seen a two-moon night. It was given to me by that remaining
grown-up, at the end of a wonderful visit, when he and six of those
nine other children came to see me. It was last night, I think--yes,
must have been. First there was a murmur of wings above the house;
my angel flew in laughing. Then they were here, all about me, full
of gaiety and colored fire, showing off in every way they knew would
please me. Each one had something graceful and friendly to say to me.
One brought me a moving image of the St. Lawrence seen at morning
from half a mile up--clouds, eagles--now how could he know that would
delight me so much?
And each one thanked me for what I had done.
But it's been so easy!
And at the end the old one--his skin is quite black, and his down is
white and gray--gave the remembered image of a two-moon night. He saw
it some sixty years ago.
I have not even considered making an effort to describe it. My fingers
will not hold this pencil much longer tonight. Oh, soaring buildings
of white and amber, untroubled countryside, silver on curling rivers,
a glimpse of open sea. A moon rising in clarity, another setting in a
wreath of cloud, between them a wide wandering of unfamiliar stars.
Here and there the angels, worthy after fifty million years to live in
such night.
No, I cannot describe anything like that. But you human kindred of
mine, I can do something better. I can tell you that this two-moon
night, glorious as it was, was no more beautiful than a night under a
single moon on this ancient and familiar Earth might be--if you will
imagine that human evil has been cleared away, and that our own people
have started at last on the greatest of all explorations, themselves.
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