The Moon rose red
And we slipped through the shadows;
Like wraiths of smoke
We ducked under lights
And slipped in the Garden,
And under the nightflower bloom
We sang the old names.
The wind rolled through clouds
The thunder boomed in the east
And still we sang and danced round the tree.
If it was rain that hid us,
As we slipped back to the real,
Who was there to say
How we shone under the Blood Moon?