Little Poems in Prose

XXXVII THE MOON’S GIFTS THE Moon, who is caprice itself looked in at the window while thou dost sleep in they cra- dle, and said to herself, “This child pleases me.” Softly she descended her ladder of clouds and passed noiselessly through the window- panes. Then she stretched herself upon thee with the supple tenderness of a mother, and laid her colours on thy face. From that thine eyes are turned green, and thy cheeks are marvellous pale. It is through looking at this celestial visitant that thine eyes are grown so strangely large, and she has so tenderly fas- tened on thy throat that thou hast therefore kept for ever the desire to weep. And yet in the overflowing of her joy the moon filled all the room like a phosphorescent atmosphere, like a luminous poison, and all this living light was thinking and saying: “Thou shalt know eternally the influence of my kiss; thou shalt be beautifully in my fashion. Thou shalt love that which I love and which loves