Early Works of Karl Marx: Book of Verse
See, breathed upon by starlight's glance,
Swift up and down a-hopping,
The Man in the Moon beats out his dance,
His lively limbs a-bobbing.
Soft weeping dew of Heaven shines
Tangled in curly hair,
Then trickles down on to the plains
Till blossoms tinkle there.
And now it sparkles, sprouts apace
In flakelets gold and pale.
The flowerbells tell the earthly place
The Moonman's grievous tale.
He waves in such a friendly way
But deep his sorrows smart.
He would be with the sinking ray,
Lean to the Sun's full heart.
He's tarried long, he's listened long
To hear the rising spheres.
He pines, he yearns to be a song,
To thaw in dancing flowers.
Earth's glade is covered with his pain
Till field and meadow ring;
Rapt with his own sweet shine, he then
Beats, reconciled, his wings.