The Moon

Oh, don’t you remember the lucky New Moon,
Which I show’d you as soon as it peep’d forth at eve?
When I spoke of omens, and you spoke of love,
And in both, the fond heart will for ever believe!
And while you whisper’d soul-melting words in my ear,
I trembled–for love is related to fear–
And before that same moon had declined in its wane,
I held you my own, in a mystical chain;
Oh, bright was the omen, for love follow’d soon,
And I bless’d as I gazed on the lovely New Moon.

And don’t you remember those two trembling stars?
That rose up, like gems, from the depths of the sea,
Or like two young lovers who stole forth at eve
To meet in the twilight, like you love and me;
And we thought them a type of our meeting on earth,
Which show’d that our love had in heaven its birth.
The moon’s waning crescent soon faded away,
But the love she gave birth to will never decay!
Oh, bright was the omen, for love follow’d soon,
And I bless when I gaze on the lovely New Moon.