THE moon has but one side of light and beauty,

The other, steeped in never-ending night,

Seems worse than dead, as in the harmony

Of spheres, she cannot even echo. And

She died they say, for love of her great brother,

The glorious Sun, whom she may never reach,

Condemned to be apart, for that great sin

Of love. He was the light and life and joy

Of all her world, how could she then refrain

And love not, when her brother was a god?

But then she died, you see, and was forgiven.

Wherefore is Earth so dark and yet alive?

Wherefore doth fire still melt the gold in depths

So fathomless, that not a spark may light

The poor outside? She wanders through the worlds,

Unknown, without a ray, and yet alive

With foaming waters and with words as proud

As flowing hair. Why art thou dark, O Earth?

If thou wert sinless, would not dancing rays

Laugh through the night and gladden other planets?

Would not thy bosom's warmth give life again

To yonder ghost, thy mate in misery?

What hast thou done to be condemned to darkness,

To be a living hell, wherein the souls

Of millions suffer until death? Thy heart

Is gold: hast thou betrayed the sun? Or hast

Thou stolen wondrous goods, in gliding from

The sun? Therefore is Death to be thy child,

A curse to wander on thy lovely sides,

That oft are torn and ever motherly

Will comfort the offender with her off'rings.

Or art thou dark because thy womb must be

The grave of all thy children, Mother Earth?