Walk softly through the moonlight— Softly, lest the sound Startle the silver on your ankle And strew it ash-like on the ground. If you have burning in you A tinge of thought more bright Than is the moonlight’s sulphur color, Do not walk tonight. They walk best in moonlight Who borrow for their own The passion of the moon to keep them Impersonal as stone. They who walk in moonlight Should be so drunk with death They pour themselves out in libation, Breath on radiant breath.
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