Slowly rising, slowly strengthening moon, Pardon us our fear in pride: Pardon us our troubled quietnesses! Aye, pardon us, O moon, Round, bright upon the darkening! Pardon us our little journeys endlessly repeated! All halting tendernesses pardon us, O high moon! For you, nooning by night, You having crept to the full, You, O moon, must have understanding of these things. = Leon Branton