Nod to the Ever-New Heart of an Older Moon

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Roses are sweet to smell and see,
And lilies on the stem;
But rarer, stranger buds there be,
And she was like to them.

The little moon that April brings,
More lovely shade than light,
That, setting, silvers lonely HILLS
Upon the verge of night -

Close to the world of my poor heart
So stole she, still and clear;
Now that she's gone, O dark, and dark,
The solitude, the fear.

-Walter De La Mare (a poem of dark and night and silver light and Lils and hills and a moon unspoiled by human foot-fall... I've heard that the Mare Incognitum is filled with milk, always sweet and fresh, and that Lacus Veris is filled with honey and nectar, and Lacus Somniorum is filled with broad papery pink and white poppy petals which are always soft and subtly fragrant)

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