When the large moon comes to the larger night
And swims in its own glow across the sky,
And the white sea climbs up the rocks, climbs high,
And clings a moment in the mad delight
Of having ventured further than it should;
When the frogs murmur their few, lonely notes,
About the lilied mere, with tireless throats,
And one night-songster thrills the dreaming wood
With her full strains of passion and regret,
And crickets shrilly chirp beneath the grass
Whereon the early dews lie sweet and wet:—
Up thro’ the years come thy dear, tender eyes,
Warm breast, fond lips and faithful hand… Alas!
To my heart-greetings come no fond replies.
“When the Large Moon Comes” printed in an unidentified publication. Clipping courtesy of the Ella Higginson Papers, Center for Pacific Northwest Studies, Heritage Resources, Western Washington University, Bellingham Washington.
This poem also appeared under the title “Dost Thou Remember.”