To the Cloud-Hidden Moon

Oh Goddess in the waxing moon,

That idly weaves the yellowed glow

‘mongst vap’rous strands that preen and prune

Thy light they neither see nor know!

Thou Goddess with more tender light

Than e’er did shine from Sun’s harsh eye,

Thy humble servant call to sight,

Take heed his prayer, or else he die.

At thy least word growth bursts to spread

In forms below and forms above;

Denied thy favor life’s but dead.

Sweet Goddess, wilt thou let me love?

Love kills the bud, the flower births,

Though in all change black terrors be.

What wonder through a thousand Earths,

If I die not, to birth but me?

Let love unwind what’s knotted tight,

Weaved strands their element to know;

Let sunshine know more subtle light

That one to all in one may grow.

Goddess above, but grant this favor

If my song pleases with its savor.