El(izabeth) Throckmorton

Each night the Lady Moon, so fair and pale,
Looks gently down and gathers worthy praise,
That visage causing poets’ words to fail,
Her beauty far too great to grace the days.
Revealed to me is an enigma now,
Of elegance to match fair Luna’s light:
Concealed as mortal woman, here, somehow,
Known only to illuminate the night.
My dazzled eye insists it cannot be –
One look is all, to take my breath away:
Reality has altered, just for me
To see that lovely Lady during day.
    Once day is done I find that sweetest grace:
    Night’s velvet touch, a tender, warm embrace.

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Stranger, here you will do well to tarry; here our highest good is pleasure.