The Sun and Moon I love the sun, as she doth warm my Art And light my path, inspiring me to breathe And write. She is my life, my love, my heart; And yet I cannot touch her without leave. The moon is cool, and did I touch her face I would not burn; but she is not for me. Or rather would her coolness keep my place Apart from her, her loveliness to see. And sight is all this Muse will grant my way; She would not care for anything I give. She Muses me, but leaves me to the Day And wanders on, not caring if I live. And so I tread this world 'twixt dawn and dusk, As Muse and Art draw lifeblood from my husk. copyright 7 August 2001 by Earle B. 'Glas' Durboraw; Birmingham.