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Kenneth Slessor - Thief Of The Moon
Work rating: Medium

Thief of the moon, thou robber of old delight, 
Thy charms have stolen the star-gold, quenched the moon- 
Cold, cold are the birds that, bubbling out of night, 
Cried once to my ears their unremembered tune- 
Dark are those orchards, their leaves no longer shine, 
No orange`s gold is globed like moonrise there- 
O thief of the earth`s old loveliness, once mine, 
Why dost thou waste all beauty to make thee fair? 

Break, break thy strings, thou lutanists of earth, 
Thy musics touch me not-let midnight cover 
With pitchy seas those leaves of orange and lime, 
I`ll not repent. The world`s no longer worth 
One smile from thee, dear pirate of place and time, 
Thief of old loves that haunted once thy lover!
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