The Moon

If the Moon had a hand
I wonder would she
Stretch it down unto me?

If she did, I would go
To her glacier land,
To her ice-covered strand.

I would run, I would fly,
Were the cold ever so,
And be warm in the snow.

O Moon of all Light,
Sailing far, sailing high
In the infinite sky.

Do not come down to me,
Lest I shriek in affright,
Lest I die in the night
Of your chill ecstasy.

James Stephens

James Stephens was an Irish novelist and poet, whose literary output includes many retellings of Irish myths and fairy tales. He was born on February 9, 1880, and passed away on December 26, 1950. Notable works include 'The Crock of Gold' and 'The Demi-Gods'. Stephens also wrote several well-regarded collections of poetry, including 'The Hill of Vision' and 'Insurrections'. His work is characterized by a blend of myth, fantasy, and modernism, capturing the spirit and culture of Ireland.

James Stephens

Cork Hill (The Rocky Road To Dublin)

James Stephens, Simple Poetry

The Lonely God

James Stephens, Simple Poetry

White Fields (The Rocky Road To Dublin)

James Stephens, Simple Poetry

Merrion Square (The Rocky Road To Dublin)

James Stephens, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

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Moonstruck

Cold shone the moon, with noise
The night went by.
Trees uttered things of woe:
Bent grass dared not grow:

Ah, desperate man with haggard eyes
And hands that fence away the skies,
On rock and briar stumbling,
Is it fear of the storm's rumbling,
Of the hissing cold rain,
Or lightning's tragic pain
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Now gone, now shines soon.
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'I shudder and shudder
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I fear, I fear,
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The Moon.

She comes! again she comes, the bright-eyed moon!
Under a ragged cloud I found her out,
Clasping her own dark orb like hope in doubt!
That ragged cloud hath waited her since noon,
And he hath found and he will hide her soon!
Come, all ye little winds that sit without,
And blow the shining leaves her edge about,
And hold her fast--ye have a pleasant tune!
She will forget us in her walks at night
Among the other worlds that are so fair!
She will forget to look on our despair!
She will forget to be so young and bright!
Nay, gentle moon, thou hast the keys of light--
I saw them hanging by thy girdle there!

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The Moon-Path

The full, clear moon uprose and spread
Her cold, pale splendor o'er the sea;
A light-strewn path that seemed to lead
Outward into eternity.
Between the darkness and the gleam
An old-world spell encompassed me:
Methought that in a godlike dream
I trod upon the sea.

And lo! upon that glimmering road,
In shining companies unfurled,
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The phantoms of old tales, and things
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Giants and demi-gods who once
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And they who from Deucalion's stones,
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Moon Song

A child saw in the morning skies
The dissipated-looking moon,
And opened wide her big blue eyes,
And cried: "Look, look, my lost balloon!"
And clapped her rosy hands with glee:
"Quick, mother! Bring it back to me."

A poet in a lilied pond
Espied the moon's reflected charms,
And ravished by that beauty blonde,
Leapt out to clasp her in his arms.
And as he'd never learnt to swim,
Poor fool! that was the end of him.

A rustic glimpsed amid the trees
The bluff moon caught as in a snare.
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Two lovers watched the new moon hold
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A Song. To The Moon.

Thou, lamp! the gods benignly gave,
To light a lover on his way;
Thou, Moon! along the silv'ry wave,
Ah! safe this flutt'ring heart convey: -

Sweet is thy light, and sweet thy shade,
The guide and guardian of our bliss,
A lover's panting lips to lead,
Or veil him in the ravish'd kiss.

Her white robe floats upon the air;
My Lyra hears the dashing oar:
Ye floods, oh! speed me to my fair!
My soul is with her long before.

Oh! lightly haste, thy lover view,
And ev'ry anxious fear resign;
Ye tow'rs, no longer fear'd, adieu!
The treasure which ye held is mine!

John Carr

To The Moon - Composed By The Seaside, On The Coast Of Cumberland

Wanderer! that stoop'st so low, and com'st so near
To human life's unsettled atmosphere;
Who lov'st with Night and Silence to partake,
So might it seem, the cares of them that wake;
And, through the cottage-lattice softly peeping,
Dost shield from harm the humblest of the sleeping;
What pleasure once encompassed those sweet names
Which yet in thy behalf the Poet claims,
An idolizing dreamer as of yore!
I slight them all; and, on this sea-beat shore
Sole-sitting, only can to thoughts attend
That bid me hail thee as the Sailor's friend;
So call thee for heaven's grace through thee made known
By confidence supplied and mercy shown,
When not a twinkling star or beacon's light
Abates the perils of a stormy night;
And for less obvious benefits, that find
Their ...

William Wordsworth