August Moonrise

    The sun was gone, and the moon was coming Over the blue Connecticut hills； The west was rosy¹, the east was flushed, And over my head the swallows rushed This way and that, with changeful wills. I heard them twitter and watched them dart² Now together and now apart Like dark petals³ blown from a tree； The maples⁴ stamped against the west Were black and stately and full of rest, And the hazy⁵ orange moon grew up And slowly changed to yellow gold While the hills were darkened, fold on fold To a deeper blue than a flower could hold. Down the hill I went, and then I forgot the ways of men, For night-scents, heady, and damp and cool Wakened ecstasy⁶ in me On the brink⁷ of a shining pool.

    O Beauty, out of many a cup You have made me drunk and wild Ever since I was a child, But when have I been sure as now That no bitterness can bend And no sorrow wholly bow One who loves you to the end？ And though I must give my breath And my laughter all to death, And my eyes through which joy came, And my heart, a wavering flame； If all must leave me and go back Along a blind and fearful track So that you can make anew, Fusing with intenser fire, Something nearer your desire； If my soul must go alone Through a cold infinity⁸, Or even if it vanish, too, Beauty, I have worshipped you.

    Let this single hour atone⁹ For the theft of all of me.