Oscar Wilde (1854–1900). Poems. 1881.
35. La Fuite de la Lune
T
A dreamy peace on either hand,
Deep silence in the shadowy land,
Deep silence where the shadows cease.
From some lone bird disconsolate;
A corncrake calling to its mate;
The answer from the misty hill.
Her sickle from the lightening skies,
And to her sombre cavern flies,
Wrapped in a veil of yellow gauze.