I watched the Moon around the House
Until upon a Pane-
She stopped-a Traveller's privilege-for Rest-
And there upon

I gazed-as at a stranger-
The Lady in the Town
Doth think no incivility
To lift her Glass-upon-

But never Stranger justified
The Curiosity
Like Mine-for not a Foot-nor Hand-
Nor Formula-had she-

But like a Head-a Guillotine
Slid carelessly away-
Did independent, Amber-
Sustain her in the sky-

Or like a Stemless Flower-
Upheld in rolling Air
By finer Gravitations-
Than bind Philosopher-

No Hunger-had she-nor an Inn-
Her Toilette-to suffice-
Nor Avocation-nor Concern
For little Mysteries

As harass us-like Life-and Death-
And Afterwards-or Nay-
But seemed engrossed to Absolute-
With shining-and the Sky-

The privilege to scrutinize
Was scarce upon my Eyes
When, with a Silver practise-
She vaulted out of Gaze-

And next-I met her on a Cloud-
Myself too far below
To follow her superior Road-
Or its advantage-Blue-