In the air
As if crying
Always looking what I am about:
I hate to be watched; I will blow you out!’
The Wind blew hard, and out went the Moon.
So, deep
On a heap
Of clouds, to sleep
Down lay the Wind, and slumbered soon,
Muttering low, ‘I’ve done for that Moon!’
He turned in his bed: she was there again!
On high
In the sky
With her one ghost-eye
The Moon shone white and alive and plain:
Said the Wind, ‘I will blow you out again!’
The Wind blew hard, and the Moon grew slim.
‘With my sledge
And my wedge
I have knocked off her edge!
I will blow,’ said the Wind, ‘right fierce and grim,
And the creature will soon be slimmer than slim!’
He blew and he blew, and she thinned to a thread.
‘One puff
More’s enough
To blow her to snuff!
One good puff more where the last was bred,
And glimmer, glimmer, glum will go that thread!’
He blew a great blast, and the thread was gone.
In the air
Was a moonbeam bare;
Larger and nearer the shy stars shone:
Sure and certain the Moon was gone!
The Wind he took to his revels once more;
On down
And in town,
A merry-mad clown,
He leaped and holloed with whistle and roar-
When there was that glimmering thread once more!
He flew in a rage-he danced and blew;
But in vain
Was the pain
Of his bursting brain,
For still the Moon-scrap the broader grew
The more that he swelled his big cheeks and blew.
Slowly she grew-till she filled the night,
And shone
On her throne
In the sky alone
A matchless, wonderful, silvery light,
Radiant and lovely, the queen of the night.
Said the Wind, ‘What a marvel of power am I!
With my breath,
In good faith,
I blew her to death!-
First blew her away right out of the sky,
Then blew her in: what a strength am I!’
But the Moon she knew nought of the silly affair;
For, high
In the sky
With her one white eye,
Motionless miles above the air,
She never had heard the great Wind blare.

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