Jan Struther

Joyce Anstruther] (1901 - 1953

Three Women

The young moon comes early
And slips away soon.
Like a white dairy-maid
Runs the young moon.
The full moon rides slowly
From night until morn,
Like a proud mother
With her child unborn.
The old moon walks idly,
Lingering, wan-
As a lone woman
Whose lover is gone,
Unseeing, uncaring,
Lives on, lives on.
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