Come

COME, when the pale moon like a petal

Floats in the pearly dusk of spring,

Come with outstretched arms to take me,

Come with lips pursed up to cling.

Come, for life is a frail moth flying

Caught in the web of the years that pass,

And soon we two,so warm and eager,

Will be as the gray stones in the grass.




Sara Teasdale