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Poem by Elinor Wylie


Phases of the Moon


Once upon a time I heard 
That the flying moon was a Phoenix bird; 
Thus she sails through windy skies, 
Thus in the willows arms she lies; 
Turn to the East or turn to the West 
In many trees she makes her nest. 
When shes but a pearly thread 
Look among birch leaves overhead; 
When she dies in yellow smoke 
Look in a thunder-smitten oak; 
But in May when the moon is full, 
Bright as water and white as wool, 
Look for her where she loves to be, 
Asleep in a high magnolia tree.



Elinor Wylie


Elinor Wylie's other poems:
  1. Madmans Song
  2. Primavera in the North
  3. Curious Circumstance
  4. The Lost Path
  5. Parting Gift


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