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WHOSE IS THE MOON? : SONNET 102

D'you see the moon -- that snowy bloom -- like I,
Her beautiful face, her beaming smile of fun,
As she hangs herself up from nightly sky,
Pouring down balminess from loving urn?
D'you feel her teasing you with her mischief,
As more you love her, farther yet she goes --
Smaller -- each passing night, till out of sight, if
Some stronger human wrap'd her in his boughs?
D'you 'so exult when suddenly ere your drab eyes
She does appear, on evening pool's dark water?
And 'so distress'd you feel when for the prize,
You bend, but she does break and disappear?
If you do, she's not yours, nor is she mine;
For, humans are deprived of the Divine.

-- N P Samal

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