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Poem by Stanley N Solomons inspired by a poem of Gérard d'Houville.

In deep dusk, in deep dusk green, the crescent moon's an air of shell sheen, shot through with curvèd light and clear ... polished the shells that gleam like her.

Sad moon, you complain and light your spell, your voice like to the swell of surging sea, surging, Goddess with thy translucent whisper!

You hush my heart that sore laments; pour on my dreams your light. Pour as do the trees and plants upon the night flower.

The slim pine black and strained hoards your song strange beneath its skin. Moved in cadential doom ... Your song free to the wind, oh twisted moon!

In my mind still I keep green murmurings of moon and sea, and as the pine tree high copies the sea, the sea sigh of shells. Songs without cease echo your peace oh moon so pale.

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