Page 61 - Lavender-B-6
P. 61
He blew a great blast, and the thread was gone.
In the air
Nowhere
Was a moonbeam bare;
Far off and harmless the shy stars shone—
Sure and certain the Moon was gone!
The Wind he took to his revels once more;
On down,
In town,
Like a merry-mad clown,
He leaped and halloed with whistle and roar—
‘What’s that?’ The glimmering thread once more!
He flew in a rage—he danced and blew;
But in vain
Was the pain
Of his bursting brain;
For still the broader the Moon—scrap grew,
The broader he swelled his big cheeks and blew.
Slowly she grew—till she filled the night,
And shone
On her throne
In the sky alone,
A matchless, wonderful silvery light,
Radiant and lovely, the queen of the night.
Said the Wind: What a marvel of power am I!
With my breath,
Good faith!
I blew her to death— revels: enjoys oneself in a
lively and noisy way
First blew her away right out of the sky— marvel: a wonderful or
Then blew her in; what strength have I! astonishing person or thing
61
