The Yellow Moon, by Henri de Régnier

The Yellow Moon

NOW with a yellow moon this long day ends.
Soft risen in the poplars she with rest
Floods all the air with which the odour blends
From the wet reeds that hide the water's breast.   Did we two know, when over the baked soil
And pointed stubble in a sun that parched,
And on the arid sands we tramped in toil,
With bleeding footprints showing where we marched,   Did we two know, when Love was wild to scorch
Our hearts, and rend them with a hopeless pain,
Did we two know, when in our hearts his torch
Flickered and failed, what sweet ash would remain   At our life's eve, and that this bitter day
Would by a yellow moon be soothed to rest,
Rounded o'er poplars, and by reeds that sway,
And breathe the odours of the water's breast? - Henri de Régnier

Henri de Régnier