Poem by Eleanor Farjeon

* * *

The moon upon her watch-tower
With her golden eye
Guarded the quarters
East and West the sky.
Just as midnight
Was stepping past
One drew his first breath,
One drew his last.
The moon upon her watch-tower
Rang a soundless bell--
It might have been for welcome,
It might have been farewell.

1. Sonnets. 11. A few of us who faltered as we fared
2. Sonnets. 16. O lovely life, how you have worn me out
3. Little Dream-Brother
4. Poplars at Night
5. The Last Week in September

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