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.