A pale ring of ice hangs in the night sky,
Encircling a luminous Moon.
Spangled clouds the cumbrous satellite surround,
Silvered ghostlight permeates the ground,
Frost glistens to Luna's tune.
The same wan Moon bathes all the land
From Lowestoft to Cwmystwyth.
Perfidious miles no barrier to light,
Flagitious distance no obstacle to night,
From Arran down to Trottiscliffe.
It hangs over my town like the angelic crown,
Steadfast and effulgent.
The residents slumber in nocturnal peace,
A rime-kissed night, under clouds like fleece,
Their dreams of warmth indulgent.
Never far, but rarely near, by burnished hills you dwell
In your quiet moonstruck township; river, lake and Sunday bell.
Can you see the celestial orb, my lovely gamine friend?
O casual grace! Luna's embrace shrinks distance in the mind.
Linger in the firmament, wond'rous wilful you,
A warmth to calm my soul, a face as fresh as morning dew.
Ring of ice, your time will pass, with sunrise shall you fade.
Over into memory slip, the heavenly debt repaid.
Sol's dominion seize the day, with wintry blasts unwrapped,
Ever I'll know Corona's gaze, a favoured memory trapped!