"LA FUITE DE LA LUNE" Oscar Wilde 1877

•  

  
  
  O outer senses there is peace,

  A dreamy peace on either hand,

  Deep silence in the shadowy land,

  Deep silence where the shadows cease.

   

  Save for a cry that echoes shrill

  From some lone bird disconsolate;

  A corncrake calling to its mate;

  The answer from the misty hill.

   

  And suddenly the moon withdraws

  Her sickle from the lightening skies,

  And to her sombre cavern flies,

  Wrapped in a veil of yellow gauze.