Page:The complete poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar.pdf/68


 * If left to herself? Had I better not sue

Some friend to watch over her, good and grave?
 * But my friend might fail in my need," he said,
 * "And I return to find love dead.
 * Since friendships fade like the flow'rs of June,
 * I will leave her in charge of the stable moon."

Then he said to the moon: "O dear old moon,
 * Who for years and years from thy thrown above
 * Hast nurtured and guarded young lovers and love,

My heart has but come to its waiting June,
 * And the promise time of the budding vine;
 * Oh, guard thee well this love of mine,"
 * And he harked him then while all was still,
 * And the pale moon answered and said, "I will."

And he sailed in his ship o'er many seas,
 * And he wandered wide o'er strange far strands:
 * In isles of the south and in Orient lands,

Where pestilence lurks in the breath of the breeze.
 * But his star was high, so he braved the main,
 * And sailed him blithely home again;
 * And with joy he bended his footsteps soon
 * To learn of his love from the matron moon.

She sat as of yore, in her olden place,
 * Serene as death, in her silver chair,
 * A white rose gleamed in her whiter hair,

And the tint of a blush was on her face.
 * At sight of the youth she sadly bowed
 * And hid her face 'neath a gracious cloud.
 * She faltered faint on the night's dim marge,
 * But "How," spoke the youth, "have you kept your

charge?"

The moon was sad at a trust ill-kept;
 * The blush went out in her blanching cheek,
 * And her voice was timid and low and weak,

As she made her plea and sighed and wept.
 * "Oh, another prayed and another plead,