noons
O winter frost , Make summer dews for me ! After reading these over several times , Draxy took out her pencil , and very shyly screening herself from all observation , wrote on the other side of the paper these lines : The Morning Moon . The gold moon turns to white ; The white moon fades to cloud ; It looks so like the gold moon 's shroud , It makes me think about the dead , And hear the words I have heard read , By graves for burial rite . I wonder now how many moons In just such white have died ; I wonder how the stars divide Among themselves their share of light ; And if there were great years of night Before the earth saw noons . I wonder why each moon , each sun , Which ever has been or shall be , In this day 's sun and moon I see ; I think perhaps all of the old Is hidden in each new day 's hold ; So the first day is not yet done ! And then I think -- our dust is spent Before the balances are swung ; Shall we be loneliest among God 's living creatures ? Shall we dare To speak in this eternal air The only discontent ?