Sonnet To The Moon

Now every leaf, though colorless, burns bright With disembodied and celestial light, And drops without a movement or a sound A pillar of darkness to the shifting ground. The lucent, thin, and alcoholic flame Runs in the stubble with a nervous aim, But, when the eye pursues, will point with fire Each single stubble-tip and strain no higher. O triple goddess! Contemplate my plight! Opacity, my fate! Change, my delight! The yellow tom-cat, sunk in shifting fur, Changes and dreams, a phosphorescent blur. Sullen I wait, but still the vision shun. Bodiless thoughts and thoughtless bodies run.