*
"The Book of Odes", by L. Cranmer-Byng, [1908],

p. 52

"Without Her\"

The moon comes forth in her brightness;

Fair as the moon was she,

That bright and beautiful lady

Who lit the night for me.

Would that I saw her now,

With the stars around her brow.

The moon comes forth in her splendour;

Fair through the void she burns,

That pale and beautiful lady,

My moon, no more returns;

But under the alien skies

She shines in a stranger's eyes.

The moon comes forth in her glory;

Kind to the world is she.

That kind and beautiful lady,

Doth charm no night for me.

Oh, when the dawn-star wanes

For the sun to rend my chains!