Poems (Blagden)/The morning moon

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THE MORNING MOON.
Amid the morning's bloom and splendour  The wan pale moon a shade has cast; A revelation sad, yet tender,  Of Love's unburied mournful past.
She comes with mute reproachful face,  A boding ghost 'mid morning's beam; Thou strong Noonday, arise and chase  That saddening enervating gleam!
I have a work which must be done,  All soft regrets I backward cast, And let the Present, with its sun,  Outshine the weak unworthy Past.
That fond vain Past I must live down  Until is spent my work-day light; Then will it shine, my martyr-crown,  The moon of Death's redeemèd night.
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