Songs of the Sea Children

by Bliss Carman




A moon-white moth against the moon, 
A sea-blue raindrop in the sea, 
A grain of pollen on the air, 
This little virgin soul might be.

As if a passing breath of wind


Should stir the poplars in the night, 
Her wondrous spirit woke from sleep, 
And shivered with unknown delight.

As if a sudden garden door 
Should open in a granite wall,

She trembled at the brink of joy, 
So great and so ephemeral.