Said the Wind to the Moon, “I’ll blow you out;
You stare
In the air
Like a ghost in a chair
Always looking what I’m about –
I hate to be watched; I’ll blow you out.”

So the Wind blew hard, and out went the Moon,
So deep
On a heap
Of clouds to sleep,
Down lay the Wind and slumbered soon,
Muttering low, “I’ve done for that Moon.”

He turned on his bed; she was there again!
On high
In the sky
With her one ghost eye,
The Moon shone white and alive and plain.
Said the Wind, “I will blow you out again.”

The Wind blew hard, and the Moon grew dim.
“With my sledge
And my wedge,
I have knocked off her edge!
If only I blow right fierce and grim,
The creature will soon be dimmer than dim.”

He blew and he blew, and she thinned to a thread.
“One puff
More’s enough
To blow her to snuff!
One good puff more where the last was bred,
And glimmer, glimmer, glum will go the thread.”

He blew a great blast, and the thread was gone.
In the air
Nowhere 
Was a moonbeam bare;
Far off and harmless the shy stars shone
Sure and certain the Moon was gone!

The Wind he took to his revels once more;
On down
In town
Like a merry mad clown,
He leapt and halloed with whistle and roar
“What’s that?” The glimmering thread once more!

He flew in a rage – he danced and blew; 
But vain
Was the pain
Of his bursting brain;
For the broader he swelled his big cheeks and blew
Still the broader the Moonscrap grew.

Slowly she grew till she filled the night
And shone
On her throne
In the sky alone,
A matchless, wonderful silvery light,
Radiant and lovely, the queen of the night.

Said the Wind: “What a marvel of power am I!
With my breath,
Good faith!
I blew her to death –
First blew her away right out of the sky –
Then blew her in; what strength have I!”

But the Moon knew nothing about the affair;
For high
In the sky
With her one white eye,
Motionless, miles above the air,
She had never heard the great Wind blare.