The Satyrs and the Moon
Within the wood behind the hill
The moon got tangled in the trees.
Her splendor made the branches thrill
And thrilled the breeze.
The satyrs in the grotto bent
Their heads to see the wondrous sight.
“It is a god in banishment
That stirs the night.”
The little satyr looked and guessed:
“It is an apple that one sees,
Brought from that garden of the West –
“It is a cyclops’ glaring eye.”
“A temple dome from Babylon.”
“A Titan’s cup of ivory.”
“A little sun.”
The tiny satyr jumped for joy,
And kicked hoofs in utmost glee.
“It is a wondrous silver toy –
Bring it to me!”
A great wind whistled through the blue
And caught the moon and tossed it high;
A bubble of pale fire it flew
Across the sky.
The satyrs gasped and looked and smiled,
And wagged their heads from side to side,
Except their shaggy little child,
Who cried and cried.