Quietly in the night, while in the woods,
Live things were humming, she looked
At the moon so soft, fair, and old.
O moon, she thought, how is it that now,
Over this land, over this grass, shining on this house,
You come so silently, so distantly, and so sweetly.
I love you, moon, for you are of the world's very own.
So far away you are, and yet, and yet,
How often you have been talked of. Kissing has been under you, and you, you great thing,
Have shone. O, don't you know, moon, you are much to men on earth? They see you, they talk of you, they write of you.
And now, moon, you shine on this wood, and now I see the cat by the house, going softly, for it is in your light.
How old you are, how old you are!
How much you've done, how much you've done!
O shining moon, O great moon, what may one say of you,
There so silent, great, and sweet, shining, shining here, right here;
Over wood, over trees, over bees, over snakes, over us, over us, who see you and think of you.
From The Right of Aesthetic Realism to Be Known, #319
(Aesthetic Realism Foundation)
© 1926 by Eli Siegel