English poem

To The Moon

ART thou pale for weariness Of climbing heaven, and gazing on the earth, Wandering companionless Among the stars that have a different birth,— And ever-changing, like a joyless eye That finds no object worth its constancy?

More by Alice Meynell

To Sleep
To The Beloved
To The Body
To The Early Dead In Battle
To The Morning
To The Muses
To The Night
To The Nightingale

All 342 poems by Alice Meynell