Said the Wind to the Moon, “I will blow you out! You stare In the air As if crying Beware,
Always looking what I am about: I hate to be watched; I will blow you out!” The Wind blew hard, and out went the Moon. So, deep
On a heap Of clouds, to sleep Down lay the Wind, and slumbered soon, Muttering low, “I've done for that Moon!”
He turned in his bed: she was there again! On high In the sky With her one ghost-eye
The Moon shone white and alive and plain: Said the Wind, “I will blow you out again!” The Wind blew hard, and the Moon grew slim. “With my sledge
And my wedge I have knocked off her edge! I will blow,” said the Wind, “right fierce and grim, And the creature will soon be slimmer than slim!”
He blew and he blew, and she thinned to a thread. “One puff More's enough To blow her to snuff!
One good puff more where the last was bred, And glimmer, glimmer, glum will go that thread!” He blew a great blast, and the thread was gone. In the air
Nowhere Was a moonbeam bare; Larger and nearer the shy stars shone: Sure and certain the Moon was gone!
The Wind he took to his revels once more; On down And in town, A merry-mad clown,
He leaped and holloed with whistle and roar — When there was that glimmering thread once more! He flew in a rage — he danced and blew; But in vain
Was the pain Of his bursting brain, For still the Moon-scrap the broader grew The more that he swelled his big cheeks and blew.
Slowly she grew — till she filled the night, And shone On her throne In the sky alone
A matchless, wonderful, silvery light, Radiant and lovely, the queen of the night. Said the Wind, “What a marvel of power am I! With my breath,
In good faith, I blew her to death!— First blew her away right out of the sky, Then blew her in: what a strength am I!”
But the Moon she knew nought of the silly affair; For, high In the sky With her one white eye,
Motionless miles above the air, She never had heard the great Wind blare.
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