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Under the Harvest Moon
Under the harvest moon, When the soft silver Drips shimmering Over garden nights, Death, the gray mocker, Comes and whispers to you As a beautiful friend Who remembers. Under the summer roses When the flagrant crimson Lurks in the dusk Of the wild red leaves, Love, with little hands, Comes and touches you With a thousand memories, And asks you Beautiful, unanswerable questions. Carl Sandburg Related Articles: Untitled Upon Julia's Clothes We Play at Paste What If I Say When I Have Fears That I May Cease To Be When We Two Parted Who Ever Felt as I Wild Nights--Wild Nights!  To our knowledge this poem is in the public domain. If you believe we have infringed any copyright laws please contact us and the offending material will be removed immediately.  The poetry on this site is for entertainment purposes only. See Full Disclaimer for more information. |
