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He who had been guarded well, At the hand of demons felló
Through the shadows came they creeping;
Worn, his angel guard was sleeping.
THE WOMAN OF THE MOON.
There's a portrait of a woman on the moon, It is graven on the shining silver disc;
It's a face that has the tint of lily roon, And the bas-reliefs as cameo or bisque.
She's as handsome as a rose in early June,
This fair and lovely woman of the moon.
A mystery's this portrait on the moon
That was graven by the Master hand above;
'Tis a mystery as deep as ancient rune,
And perplexing as the woman that we love.
She is fairest in the autumn night's high noon,
This pure and lovely woman of the moon.
It was erst a man we pictured in the moon;
It is better that a woman should be there, With the roses and the lilies 'round her strewn,
And the light of heaven, shining on her hair. When the one we love is absent we may croon To the lovely woman graven on the moon.