Amy Lowell: The Crescent Moon

The Crescent Moon

Slipping softly through the sky  Little horned, happy moon, Can you hear me up so high?  Will you come down soon?
On my nursery window-sill  Will you stay your steady flight? And then float away with me  Through the summer night?
Brushing over tops of trees,  Playing hide and seek with stars, Peeping up through shiny clouds  At Jupiter or Mars.
I shall fill my lap with roses  Gathered in the milky way, All to carry home to mother.  Oh! what will she say!
Little rocking, sailing moon,  Do you hear me shout — Ahoy! Just a little nearer, moon,  To please a little boy.