A warm Suffolk evening towards the end of summer. The moon rises early, as the sun is just beginning to set. Long shadows on empty fields.
by D. H. Lawrence
And who has seen the moon, who has not seen
Her rise for out the chamber of the deep
Flushed and grand and naked, as from the chamber
Of finished bridegroom, seen her rise and throw
Confession of delight upon the wave,
Littering the waves with her own superscription
Of bliss, till all her lambent beauty shakes towards us
Spread out and known at last: and we are sure
That beauty is a thing beyond the grave,
That perfect, bright experience never falls
To nothingness, and time will dim the moon
Sooner than our full consummation here
In this odd life will tarnish or pass away.
While the moon rises, the sun departs.