Yesteryear Fiction

The Nocturne
by Maria Mitchell


A honey haired girl is out tonight

adorned in robes of aurous light.

She walks along the breezy coast

with steps no louder than a gliding ghost.

The fairy treads lightly on velvet shoes.

Jasmine perfume and her golden hair fuse.

The balmy air of the ocean mist

on her crimson cheeks have left a kiss

as she sows wildflower seeds

whose growth the lunar sphere leads.

She appears as any mortal woman would

with her gauzy wings tucked under her hood.

Her cloak spun from flax shimmers with dew

which she collects from spicy green rue

growing on the edge of the glen

stretching to the forest's mossy den.

To heighten the gloss, her cloak she must

perpetually bathe in starry dust.

Somewhere in the night, by the light of the moon,

she's composing and singing a haunting tune,

joined by a chorus of birds flying by

and conducted by the ocean's sigh.

The shining stars playfully wink and stare

through hazy drapes of sky and air.

As the starlight is soothed from ire,

she captures the ashes of their fire.

With the charm of her voice, soothing and serene,

a lovelier creature than she, no one has seen.

All her music does within her burn,

Translated into her work: The Nocturne.