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. 12. I hear love answer: Since within the mesh
2. Three Miles to Penn
3. Sonnets. 1. Man Cannot Be a Sophist to His Heart
4. Sonnets. 2. O Spare Me from the Hand of Niggard Love
5. Never-Known

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