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Nocturne

The earth, still heavy and warm with afternoon,

Dazed by the moon:

The earth, tormented with the moon’s light,

Wandering in the night:

La,

La,

The moon is a lovely thing to see—The moon is an agony.

Full moon, moon rise, the old old

Of brightness in dilated eyes,

The ache of

Elbows leaning on the narrow sill,

Of motionless cold hands upon the

Marble of the parapet,

Of open eyelids of a child

The crooked glimmer of the windown blind,

Of sliding faint remindful

Across the lamplight on the rocking-chairs:

Why do we stand so

Stiff fingers on the moonlit gate?

Why do we

To watch so long the fall of moonlight on the sand?

What is it we cannot recall?

Tormented by the moon’s

The earth turns maundering through the night.

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Archibald MacLeish

Archibald MacLeish (May 7, 1892 – April 20, 1982) was an American poet and writer who was associated with the modernist school of poetry. MacLei…

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