New Moon
O
VER the meadow a new moon showing,
Curved like a blade near a shimmering
star,
And I am again a young girl going
Down the long lane where the cattle are,
Calling them home from the dusk-sweet clover,
My bare feet splashed by the early dew,
“If I make a wish with the new moon over
My right shoulder, it will come true . . .”
“Co’ boss, co’ boss,” my lips are calling,
But my shy young heart is away with its dreams—
There is the thud of a rail bar falling,
As over my shoulder the new moon gleams.
Out in the dusk a faint bell ringing,
And the last cow follows that tinkling tune.
I send up my wish and it goes winging
Beyond the stars, and beyond the moon
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