I saw the moon come out and stand last night
Above the plains of cloud,
Like a lone chief, who, at his tented door,
Looks down upon the forest’s silent floor
From a far battlement upon the height,
And drops his mantle proud
Into the swimming vapours of the light.
O watcher on the planet-woven steep
Whose shining feet are set
Above the haunted glamour of the skies!
Draw me, a slave, with thy compelling eyes,
While the slow hours in soundless circle creep,
Out through the world, while yet
The world’s heart heaves beneath the veil of sleep.
O pale-faced chief! The earth and heaven are still
And thou and I awake;
I come, with outstretched arms and spirit bound,
Forth through the scattered graves where, lying sound,
The dead are sown by field and fold and hill
And mist-entangled brake;
O pale chief! Draw me up into the height,
Into the swimming light.
❦