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About this Poem 

From A Dome of Many-Coloured Glass (Houghton Mifflin Company, 1912)

The Crescent Moon

          Slipping softly through the sky
           Little horned, happy moon,
          Can you hear me up so high?
           Will you come down soon?

          On my nursery window-sill
           Will you stay your steady flight?
          And then float away with me
           Through the summer night?

          Brushing over tops of trees,
           Playing hide and seek with stars,
          Peeping up through shiny clouds
           At Jupiter or Mars.

          I shall fill my lap with roses
           Gathered in the milky way,
          All to carry home to mother.
           Oh! what will she say!

          Little rocking, sailing moon,
           Do you hear me shout — Ahoy!
          Just a little nearer, moon,
           To please a little boy.

This poem is in the public domain. 

This poem is in the public domain. 

Amy Lowell

Amy Lowell

Born in 1874, Amy Lowell was deeply interested in and influenced by the Imagist movement and she received the Pulitzer Prize for her collection What's O'Clock.

by this poet

poem
          Glinting golden through the trees,
           Apples of Hesperides!
          Through the moon-pierced warp of night
          Shoot pale shafts of yellow light,
          Swaying to the kissing breeze
          Swings the treasure, golden-gleaming,
           Apples of Hesperides!

          Far and
poem
          A little garden on a bleak hillside
           Where deep the heavy, dazzling mountain snow
           Lies far into the spring. The sun's pale glow
          Is scarcely able to melt patches wide
          About the single rose bush. All denied
           Of nature's tender ministries. But no
poem
          Dear Bessie, would my tired rhyme
           Had force to rise from apathy,
           And shaking off its lethargy
          Ring word-tones like a Christmas chime.

          But in my soul's high belfry, chill
           The bitter wind of doubt has blown,
           The summer swallows all have