C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

The Yellow Moon

THE YELLOW MOON looks slantly down

Through seaward mists, upon the town;

And ghost-like there the moonshine falls

Between the dim and shadowy walls.

I see a crowd in every street,

But cannot hear their falling feet;

They float like clouds through shade and light,

And seem a portion of the Night.

The ships have lain for ages fled

Along the waters, dark and dead;

The dying waters wash no more

The long black line of spectral shore.

There is no life on land or sea,

Save in the quiet Moon and me;

Nor ours is true, but only seems,

Within some dead old World of Dreams.