“Moon”
Robert van Oort
I believe and yet I doubted
That furrowed brow should rise
With such light of sweet countenance,
Fair beauty without guise.
Ghostly splendour guards the passage,
Whispering silken mist.
Silver pallid greyish hues,
Sublime translucent kist.
Yet, sickle forms no less undo
That allurement so fine.
Sculptured marble each passing night,
My paramour divine.
No longer doubt glorious lune
Who eyes the setting sun,
Come forth now this darkened night,
Your glory ever won.
© Copyright Robert van Oort, 22April 2025
Glencoe Park 