Poems (Forrest)/At moonrise
AT MOONRISE
The first man, finding he could stand erect,
Crept from his rocky cavern and looked out
One night, to where there hung across the sky
The great and golden circle of the moon.
Black were the fir-trees on the jagged hill,
Black were the valleys where huge monsters moved
Grunting and shuffling, hissing in the dark
Lit here and there by yellow glint of eyes
Or flash of fangs that dripped each other's blood . . .
Crept from his rocky cavern and looked out
One night, to where there hung across the sky
The great and golden circle of the moon.
Black were the fir-trees on the jagged hill,
Black were the valleys where huge monsters moved
Grunting and shuffling, hissing in the dark
Lit here and there by yellow glint of eyes
Or flash of fangs that dripped each other's blood . . .
Half crouching at the entrance of the cave,
Clutching his weapon in his hairy hand,
With small red eyes and sagging underlip,
He felt a strangeness stir within his breast
That knew brute love and hunger and hot thirst,
But had not pulsed before to vague regrets
For some pale Eden of high sentiment
That means not clinging limbs, but fusing souls. . .
Clutching his weapon in his hairy hand,
With small red eyes and sagging underlip,
He felt a strangeness stir within his breast
That knew brute love and hunger and hot thirst,
But had not pulsed before to vague regrets
For some pale Eden of high sentiment
That means not clinging limbs, but fusing souls. . .
He saw the moon-bloom on the empty crags:
He smelled the moist perfumes the moon-ray found,
He saw it reach the waters like a spear. . .
Then he wheeled suddenly and weeping, sought
The shadow with his face turned to the wall. . .
He smelled the moist perfumes the moon-ray found,
He saw it reach the waters like a spear. . .
Then he wheeled suddenly and weeping, sought
The shadow with his face turned to the wall. . .
To-night you see the moon across the sands
And ponder if it finds the far-off loom
Of some Hy-Brasil that is made of dream:
The heavy scent of coastal box blows down
To spice the shore with sweets. You hear beyond
The gum-trees and the whisper of the leaves
A band that blares out jazz at the hotel . . .
Yet, with your bridegroom's kisses on your mouth
Clad in your satin gown and fragile shoes
You ache to wander thro' the thorny bush
By some lone crag to watch the moon alone,
And know not why your eyes are blind with tears. . .
And ponder if it finds the far-off loom
Of some Hy-Brasil that is made of dream:
The heavy scent of coastal box blows down
To spice the shore with sweets. You hear beyond
The gum-trees and the whisper of the leaves
A band that blares out jazz at the hotel . . .
Yet, with your bridegroom's kisses on your mouth
Clad in your satin gown and fragile shoes
You ache to wander thro' the thorny bush
By some lone crag to watch the moon alone,
And know not why your eyes are blind with tears. . .