The Moon like a lantern or a face  
 swims in its cowl, fat with light.  
 I lie brooding.  
 The shadows of the room grow.  
 What if I should go now, walk the hills,  
 stare across the outspread  
 dwindling city or grow fat with stars,  
 big-headed as this panoramic view,  
 swollen as if with rain. My heart  
 is swollen. Like a lantern or a face  
 it rides thru the forest, lonely as a light