The silver sequins that are stars
Embroidering the black
Of velvet cloth o’night are spoils
Of magic pedlar-pack.
Yet I would fling them all away
To see my love come back.
The pale and slender shred of moon
A-swinging in the blue,
Was like a tilted golden horn,
So delicate, so new…
It broadens to a gleaming coin
But still I dream of you.
Someday, perhaps, when thoughts like these
Have vanished from my mind,
And in their flight have left no trace
Of tenderness behind,
I shall regret the loss of all
I now cast down the wind.
I’ll even laugh in scorn when I
Look backwards through the years
At our brief time of sweetness crushed
By dark, engulfing fears;
Yet glimpses of your eyes would be
Blurred through a mist of tears.
by June Saunders (1939)