Verse > Anthologies > Harriet Monroe, ed. > Poetry: A Magazine of Verse, 1912–22
Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936).  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse.  1912–22.
By Katherine Riggs
HAPPENED that the moon was up before I went to bed,
Poking through the bramble-trees her round gold head.
I didn’t stop for stocking,
I didn’t stop for shoe,
But went running out to meet her—oh, the night was blue!        5
Barefoot down the hill road, dust beneath my toes;
Barefoot in the pasture smelling sweet of fern and rose!
Oh, night was running with me,
Tame folk were all in bed—
And the moon was just showing her wild gold head!        10
But before I reached the hilltop where the bramble-trees are tall,
I looked to see my lady moon—she wasn’t there at all!—
Not sitting on the hilltop,
Nor slipping through the air,
Nor hanging in the brambles by her bright gold hair!        15
I walked slowly down the pasture and slowly up the hill,
Wondering and wondering, and very, very still.
I wouldn’t look behind me,
I went at once to bed—
And poking through the window was her bold gold head!        20

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