Celebrating the Full Harvest Moon!

Hello everyone –

 

The Full Harvest Moon shone brightly over East Central Illinois last night, enchanting the landscape and atmosphere with its silvery-blue-gray light. Here are some lesser-known poems about the Moon to celebrate the Harvest Moon, which will rise over your horizon for the next several evenings…

 

“The Moon”

By Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894)

 

The Moon has a face like the clock in the hall;

She shines on thieves on the garden wall,

On streets and fields and harbor quays,

And birdies asleep in the forks of the trees.

The squalling cat and the squeaking mouse,

The howling dog by the door of the house,

The bat that lies in bed at noon,

All love to be out by the light of the Moon.

But all of the things that belong to the day

Cuddle to sleep to be out of her way;

And flowers and children close their eyes

Till up in the morning the Sun shall arise.

 

“Eldorado”

By Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849)

 

Gaily bedight, a gallant knight,

In sunshine and in shadow,

Had journeyed long, singing a song,

In search of Eldorado.

But he grew old — this knight so bold —

And o’er his heart a shadow —

Fell as he found no spot of ground

That looked like Eldorado.

And, as his strength failed him at length,

He met a pilgrim shadow —

“Shadow,” said he, “Where can it be —

This land of Eldorado?”

“Over the Mountains of the Moon,

Down the Valley of the Shadow,

Ride, boldly ride,” the shade replied, —

“If you seek for Eldorado!”

 

“The Harvest Moon”

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)

 

It is the Harvest Moon! On gilded vanes

And roofs of villages, on woodland crests

And their aerial neighborhoods of nests

Deserted, on the curtained window-panes

Of rooms where children sleep, on country lanes

And harvest-fields, its mystic splendor rests!

 

Gone are the birds that were our summer guests,

With the last sheaves return the laboring wains!

All things are symbols: the external shows

Of Nature have their image in the mind,

As flowers and fruits and falling of the leaves;

The song-birds leave us at the summer's close,

Only the empty nests are left behind,

And pipings of the quail among the sheaves.

 

“Moonrise”

By Bliss Carman (1861-1929)

 

At the end of the road through the wood

I see the great Moon rise.

The fields are flooded with shine,

And my soul with surmise.

 

What if that mystic orb

With her shadowy beams,

Should be the revealer at last

Of my darkest dreams!

 

What if this tender fire

In my heart’s deep hold

Should be wiser than all the lore

Of the sages of old!

 

Until next time – keep looking up! 😊

 

Rob