The Mourning Moon

The night bends down his pitch-black head,
And with salt-star tears, he cries
For a love whose hope is dead,
For his beloved is the pale sunrise

He mourns a love mired in despair,
And cries a stream of starry tears
Whose light recalls the sunshine fair,
And haunts the sky through long cold years.

Written after reading a book of Yeats' verses. The man was a master!