Friday poem: 'The Moon was But a Chin of Gold'
A poem by Emily Dickinson.
By Emily Dickinson
The Moon was but a Chin of Gold
A Night or two ago –
And now she turns Her perfect Face
Upon the World below –
Her Forehead is of Amplest Blonde –
Her Cheek – a Beryl hewn –
Her Eye unto the Summer Dew
The likest I have known –
Her Lips of Amber never part –
But what must be the smile
Upon Her Friend she could confer
Were such Her Silver Will –
And what a privilege to be
But the remotest Star –
For Certainty She take Her Way
Beside Your Palace Door –
Her Bonnet is the Firmament –
The Universe – Her Shoe –
The Stars – the Trinkets at Her Belt –
Her Dimities – of Blue.
To The Moon
by Carol Ann Duffy
'The Moon was But a Chin of Gold' appears in To The Moon: An Anthology of Lunar Poems, edited by Carol Ann Duffy.
In her introduction to the anthology, Duffy writes: 'the moon has always been, and always will be, the supremely prized image for poets – a mirror to reflect the poetic imagination; language's human smile against death's darkness.'