The moon waxes and wanes. And through each phase
She numbers wearily her count of days
To season every year and age of man
Who seeks progress: though oft suck fast he stays.
Does Luna wonder at times about Earth?
About mankind below, who live, give birth
To generations chained within this sphere
Sustaining Life? Do we cause Luna mirth?
Does Luna too have cares which we know naught?
The tides to govern, oceans’ margins brought
To lave each hidden strand, cove, beach, shoreline,
And purify with brine the coasts she sought?