I Shall No Longer Whine Up To The Moon Poem by Colin Breck Boardman

I shall no longer whine up to the Moon,
No longer pine in hope as sweethearts do,
No longer play the lover's lonely tune
Or serenade her horning head anew.
What blessings did she send from up above?
What was reveal'd by her fading light?
What shining hope was sent to seal my love?
Nothing save the silence of the night.
My days of praying up to Phoebe's eye
Or calling on Selene's silent smile
Have gone, as Isis to herself must cry
And Artemis must miss us for a while.
Goodbye old Moon, it's time for taking stock,
To howl no longer at an empty rock.