Claire de Lune
CLAIRE DE LUNE by ROLAND LEIGHTON
Soft with the breath of flowers And laughter of dead showers, The passionate pale-lit hours Encompass wood and lea; And down the whispering river And moon-bright dimples quiver On waves that start and shiver For fear to join the sea.
But when Night's veil grows older, Her subtle silence colder, The poplar's blackness bolder Against the dawning sky, New Day's renascent embers Make June's dear dreams December's; And no one else remembers Except the moon and I.
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|Author||Leighton, Roland (1895-1915)|
|Title||Claire de Lune|
|First line||Soft with the breath of flowers|
|Digital repository||The First World War Poetry Digital Archive|