Every morning the Sun knelt
in the courtyard of the Moon.
She would never let him see
quite all of her; cloud curtains
dropped at any sign of his advancement.
How he burned for her!
He compared her to seafoam, pearls,
hammered silver thin as rain.
He ached to marry her.
One day she agreed. "But you must bring me
a suitable gift which must fit
The next day he brought her a bracelet
made of red coral and dove feathers.
But it was too small! He gave her a cloak
to wear after her bath: it was too big.
He could never keep her constant.
They have never married. Moon saddened,
for he never spoke of the one gift
without measure and yet the measure of all things: