I lay on the shore beside the sea,
And the young moon climbed the hill of the sky
And paused a space to look down on me
Alone with my misery
Then on the fallow blue fields above
The young moon sowed its seed of stars;
Light gleamed from the mirror of her named Love
And flashed from the shield of Mars.
The stars sprang up from the silver seed
Wherever that silver sower trod.
Through the windows of heaven watching my need
I knew them the eyes of God.
Little blue waves with blown foam capped
Crept on the solitary shore
Which the sea's white lips still licked and lapped
For ever and evermore.
The silver moon waxed strong and older;
I thought I saw it stop to fling
A silver sickle over its shoulder
And commence its harvesting.
The strong moon ploughed through the fields of heaven,
Its eternal labour but half-begun.
My breast dropped its load of earthy leaven
As the stars dropped one by one.
I had sat there hugging my trivial cross,
My infinitesimal mortal pains,
Reckoning up how my mortal loss
Outmeasured my mortal gains.
I saw the moon reaping God's blue fields
Night after night sown thick with seeds.
I saw the crop which God's harvest yields
Not in men's dreams, but deeds.
The old moon climbed down the hill of the sky,
The strong young day flashed up in flame.
The moon dropped into the sea, and I
Bowed down my head in shame.