6 THE MAN IN THE MOON CAME DOWN TOO SOON


    The Man in the Moon had silver shoon,


    and his beard was of silver thread;


    With opals crowned and pearls all bound


    about his girdlestead,


    In his mantle grey he walked one day


    across a shining floor,


    And with crystal key in secrecy


    he opened an ivory door.


    On a filigree stair of glimmering hair


    then lightly down he went,


    And merry was he at last to be free


    on a mad adventure bent.


    In diamonds white he had lost delight;


    he was tired of his minaret


    Of tall moonstone that towered alone


    on a lunar mountain set.


    He would dare any peril for ruby and beryl


    to broider his pale attire,


    For new diadems of lustrous gems,


    emerald and sapphire.


    So was lonely too with nothing to do


    but stare at the world of gold


    And heark to the hum that would distantly come


    as gaily round it rolled.


    At plenilune in his argent moon


    in his heart he longed for Fire:


    Not the limpid lights of wan selenites;


    for red was his desire,


    For crimson and rose and ember-glows,


    for flame with burning tongue,


    For the scarlet skies in a swift sunrise


    when a stormy day is young.


    He''d have seas of blues, and the living hues


    of forest green and fen;


    And he yearned for the mirth of the populous earth


    and the sanguine blood of men.


    He coveted song, and laughter long,


    and viands hot, and wine,


    Eating pearly cakes of light snowflakes


    and drinking thin moonshine.


    He twinkled his feet, as he thought of the meat,


    of pepper, and punch galore;


    And he tripped unaware on his slanting stair,


    and like a meteor,


    A star in flight, ere Yule one night


    flickering down he fell


    From his laddery path to a foaming bath


    in the windy Bay of Bel.


    He began to think, lest he melt and sink,


    what in the moon to do,


    When a fisherman''s boat found him far afloat


    to the amazement of the crew,


    Caught in their net all shimmering wet


    in a phosphorescent sheen


    Of bluey whites and opal lights


    and delicate liquid green.


    Against his wish with the morning fish


    they packed him back to land:


    ''You had best get a bed in an inn'', they said;


    ''the town is near at hand''.


    Only the knell of one slow bell


    high in the Seaward Tower


    Announced the news of his moonsick cruise


    at that unseemly hour.


    Not a hearth was laid, not a breakfast made,


    and dawn was cold and damp.


    There were ashes for fire, and for grass the mire,


    for the sun a smoking lamp


    In a dim back-street. Not a man did he meet,


    no voice was raised in song;


    There were snores instead, for all folk were abed


    and still would slumber long.


    He knocked as he passed on doors locked fast,


    and called and cried in vain,


    Till he came to an inn that had light within,


    and tapped at a window-pane.


    A drowsy cook gave a surly look,


    and ''What do you want?'' said he.


    ''I want fire and gold and songs of old


    and red wine flowing free!''


    ''You won''t get them here'', said the cook with a leer,


    ''but you may come inside.


    Silver I lack and silk to my back -


    maybe I''ll let you bide''.


    A silver gift the latch to lift,


    a pearl to pass the door;


    For a seat by the cook in the ingle-nook


    it cost him twenty more.


    For hunger or drouth naught passed his mouth


    till he gave both crown and cloak;


    And all that he got, in an earthen pot


    broken and black with smoke,


    Was porridge cold and two days old


    to eat with a wooden spoon.


    For puddings of Yule with plums, poor fool,


    he arrived so much too soon:


    An unwary guest on a lunatic quest


    from the Mountains of the Moon.