The
Moon’s the North Wind’s Cooky
by
Vachel Lindsay
The moon’s the North Wind’s cooky
He bites it, day by day,
Until there’s but a rim of scraps
That crumbles all away.
vvvvvvvv
The south wind is a baker.
He kneads clouds in his den,
And bakes a crisp new moon, that … greedy,
North ….Wind …..eats again
Silver
By
Walter de le Mare
Slowly, silently now the moon
Walks the night in her sliver shoon;
This and that, she peers, and sees,
Sliver fruit, upon silver trees;
One by one the casements catch
Her beams upon the silvery thatch;
Couched in his kennel, like a dog;
From their shadowy cote the white breasts peeps,
Of doves in silvered-feathered sleep;
A harvest mouse goes scampering by,
With silver claws and silver eye;
And moveless fish in water gleam,
By silver reeds in silver stream.
I Stood Against The Window
by
Rose Fyleman
I stood against the window
And looked between the bars.
And there were strings of fairies
Hanging from the stars;
Everywhere and everywhere,
In shining, swinging chains;
The air was full and shimmering,
Like sunlight when it rains.
zzzzzzzzzzzzz
They kept on swinging, swinging,
They flung themselves so high
They caught upon the pointed moon
And hung across the sky.
And when I woke in mooning,
There still were crowds and crowds
In beautiful bright bunches
All sleeping in the clouds
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