Day, you have bruised and beaten me, As rain beats down the bright, proud sea, Beaten my body, bruised my soul, Left me nothing lovely or whole --Yet I have wrested a gift from you, Day that dies in dusky blue:
For suddenly over the factories I saw a moon in the cloudy seas --A wisp of beauty all alone In a world as hard and gray as stone --Oh who could be bitter and want to die When a maiden moon wakes up in the sky?
