Moonrise

Will you glimmer on the sea?
Will you fling your spear-head
On the shore?
What note shall we pitch?

We have a song,    
On the bank we share our arrows—
The loosed string tells our note:

O flight,
Bring her swiftly to our song.
She is great,      
We measure her by the pine-trees.

By H.D.
Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936)
The New Poetry: An Anthology.  1917