by Sara Teasedale
Come, when the pale moon like a petal
   Floats in the pearly dusk of spring,
Come with arms outstretched to take me,
   Come with lips pursed up to cling.
Come, for life is a frail moth flying
   Caught in the web of the years that pass,
And soon we two, so warm and eager
   Will be as the gray stones in the grass.

Play Hangman

Play Poptropica

Play Quizzes

Play Tic Tac Toe