Then was his wife much overjoyed and she took the little creature to her bosom and cared for her. Lovelier grew the Moon Child every year and much she rejoiced the hearts of her foster parents. Her hair was like a golden aureole about her face. Her eyes were deep and tender, her cheeks were pale and delicate, and about her there was a subtle and unearthly charm. Every one loved her, even the emperor's son, who, hunting in the forest, saw her lighting up the humble cottage with her heavenly light. He loved her dearly and she loved him, but alas! she could not marry him, because her life upon the earth could be but twenty years. Then she must return to her home in the moon, for so willed her mother the Moon Lady. At last the day came when she must go. Her parents wept, and could not be consoled; and her lover, who was now the emperor, could not keep her, although he besought High Heaven to spare her. Her mother caught her up in a silver moonbeam; and all the way to the moon the little Princess wept silvery tears. As the tears fell from her eyes, lo! they took wings and floated away looking for the form of the emperor who might see her no more. But the silver-bright tears are seen to this day floating hither and yon about the vales and marshes of fair Nippon. The children chase them with happy cries, and say, "See the fireflies! How fair they are! Whence came they?" Then their mothers relate to them the legend and say, "These are the tears of the little Princess, flitting to seek her beloved"; and over all, calm and eternal, smiles the Honorable Mountain. THE MOON That orbèd maiden, with white fire laden, Whom mortals call the moon, Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor, By the midnight breezes strewn; And wherever the beat of her unseen feet, Which only the angels hear, May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof, The stars peep behind her and peer; And I laugh to see them whirl and flee, Like a swarm of golden bees, When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent, Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas, Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high, Are each paved with the moon and these. PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY. THE SPACIOUS FIRMAMENT ON HIGH The spacious firmament on high, With all the blue ethereal sky, And spangled heaven, a shining frame, Their great Original proclaim; Th' unwearied sun, from day to day, Does his Creator's power display, And publishes to every land The work of an Almighty hand.