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The Moon & SkY

"There is something haunting in the light of the moon; it has all the dispassionateness of a disembodied soul, and something of its inconceivable mystery" — Joseph Conrad

FULL MOON NIGHTS
Click for Galveston, Texas Forecast
  2015 2016 2017 2018 2019
January
January 4
10:54 P.M.
January 23
7:46 P.M.
January 12
5:35 A.M.
January 1
8:25 P.M.
January 31
7:27 A.M.
January 20
11:17 P.M.
February
February 3
5:10 P.M.
February 22
12:20 P.M.
February 10
6:33 P.M.
 
February 19
9:53 A.M.
March
March 5
12:06 P.M.
March 23
7:01 A.M.
March 12
9:54 A.M.
March 1
6:52 P.M.
March 31
7:37 A.M.
March 20
8:43 P.M.
April
April 4
7:07 A.M.
April 22
12:25 A.M.
April 11
1:09 A.M.
April 29
7:59 P.M.
April 19
6:12 A.M.
May
May 3
10:44 P.M.
May 21
4:16 P.M.
May 10
4:43 P.M.
May 29
9:20 A.M.
May 18
4:11 P.M.
June
June 2
11:21 A.M.
June 20
6:04 A.M.
June 9
8:11 A.M.
June 27
11:54 P.M.
June 17
3:31 A.M.
July
July 1
9:22 P.M.
July 31
5:45 A.M.
July 19
5:59 P.M.
July 8
11:08 P.M.
July 27
3:22 P.M.
July 16
4:39 P.M.
August
August 29
1:37 P.M.
August 18
4:29 A.M.
August 7
1:12 P.M.
August 26
6:58 A.M.
August 15
7:31 A.M.
September
September 27
9:52 P.M.
September 16
2:07 P.M.
September 6
2:04 A.M.
September 24
9:54 P.M.
September 13
11:35 P.M.
October
October 27
7:05 A.M.
October 15
11:25 P.M.
October 5
1:41 P.M.
October 24
11:47 A.M.
October 13
4:10 P.M.
November
November 25
4:44 P.M.
November 14
7:53 A.M.
November 4
12:24 A.M.
November 22
11:41 P.M.
November 12
7:37 A.M.
December
December 25
5:11 A.M.
December 13
6:06 P.M.
December 3
9:48 A.M.
December 22
11:50 A.M.
December 11
11:14 P.M.

Moonrise times are for Galveston, Texas.

This page has been on line since 2001. What this page looked like in 2005.

What's in the Sky This Month

Moon song lyrics on this web site:

The Voyage of the Moon

Moonlight Feels Rights

New Moon on Monday

FULL MOON

by Walter de la Mare

One night as Dick lay half asleep,
Into his drowsy eyes
Monn rises over water at twilightA great still light began to creep
From out the silent skies.
It was the lovely moon's, for when
He raised his dreamy head,
Her surge of silver filled the pane
And streamed across his bed.
So, for a while, each gazed at each --
Dick and the solemn moon --
Till, climbing slowly on her way,
She vanished, and was gone.

SILVER

by Walter de la Mare

Slowly, silently, now the moon
Walks the night in her silver shoon;
This way, and that, she peers, and sees
Silver fruit upon silver trees;
One by one the casements catch
Her beams beneath the silvery thatch;
Couched in his kennel, like a log,
With paws of silver sleeps the dog;
From their shadowy cote the white breasts peep
Of doves in silver-feathered sleep;
A harvest mouse goes scampering by,
With silver claws and a silver eye;
And moveless fish in the water gleam,
By silver reeds in a silver stream.

TO THE MOON

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

I

AND, like a dying lady lean and pale,
Who totters forth, wrapp'd in a gauzy veil,
Out of her chamber, led by the insane
And feeble wanderings of her fading brain,
The mood arose up in the murky east,
A white and shapeless mass.

II

Art thou pale for weariness
Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth,
Wandering companionless
Among the stars that have a different birth,
And ever changing, like a joyless eye
That finds no object worth its constancy?

We'll Go No
More A Roving

by George Gordon (Lord) Byron


So, we'll go no more a-roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
And the moon be still as bright.

For the sword outwears its sheath,
And the soul wears out the breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
And love itself have rest.

Though the night was made for loving,
And the day returns too soon,
Yet we'll go no more a-roving
By the light of the moon.

She Walks
in Beauty

by George Gordon (Lord) Byron

SHE walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

The Man in the
Moon Came Down
Too Soon

By J. R. R. Tolkien


There is an inn, a merry old inn
beneath an old grey hill,
And there they brew a beer so brown
That the Man in the Moon himself came down
one night to drink his fill.

The ostler has a tipsy cat
that plays a five-stringed fiddle;
And up and down he saws his bow
Now squeaking high, now purring low,
now sawing in the middle.

The landlord keeps a little dog
that is mighty fond of jokes;
When there's good cheer among the guests,
He cocks an ear at all the jests
and laughs until he chokes.

They also keep a hornéd cow
as proud as any queen;
But music turns her head like ale,
And makes her wave her tufted tail
and dance upon the green.

And O! the rows of silver dishes
and the store of silver spoons!
For Sunday there's a special pair,
And these they polish up with care
on Saturday afternoons.

The Man in the Moon was drinking deep,
and the cat began to wail;
A dish and a spoon on the table danced,
The cow in the garden madly pranced
and the little dog chased his tail.

The Man in the Moon took another mug,
and then rolled beneath his chair;
And there he dozed and dreamed of ale,
Till in the sky the stars were pale,
and dawn was in the air.

Then the ostler said to his tipsy cat:
'The white horses of the Moon,
They neigh and champ their silver bits;
But their master's been and drowned his wits,
and the Sun'll be rising soon!'

So the cat on the fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle,
a jig that would wake the dead:
He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,
While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon:
'It's after three!' he said.

They rolled the Man slowly up the hill
and bundled him into the Moon,
While his horses galloped up in rear,
And the cow came capering like a deer,
and a dish ran up with the spoon.

Now quicker the fiddle went deedle-dum-diddle;
the dog began to roar,
The cow and the horses stood on their heads;
The guests all bounded from their beds
and danced upon the floor.

With a ping and a pang the fiddle-strings broke!
the cow jumped over the Moon,
And the little dog laughed to see such fun,
And the Saturday dish went off at a run
with the silver Sunday spoon.

The round Moon rolled behind the hill,
as the Sun raised up her head.
She* hardly believed her fiery eyes;
For though it was day, to her surprise
they all went back to bed!

Some More Moon Poems



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Looking to the Skies

Time Now: Astronomy
Time Now: The Moon
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Dark Side of the Moon - Stanley Kubrick and the Fake Moon Landings
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Below: A crescent moon waxing in the evening twilight, August 31, 2011. Image recorded near Houston by Grady McAllister.

Crescent moon on August 31, 2011.

Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires;
Know of your youth, examine well your blood,
Whether, if you yield not to your father's choice,
You can endure the livery of a nun,
For aye to be in shady cloister mew'd,
To live a barren sister all your life,
Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon.

— Shakespeare, "Midsummer Night's Dream"

"Alone, far from the beaten tracks, she glided, all white, round dark, frowning headlands, stole out, silent like a ghost, from behind points of land stretching out all black in the moonlight; or lay hove-to, like a sleeping sea-bird..."

— Joseph Conrad in Freya of the Seven Isles

"I often think that the night is more alive and more richly colored than the day."

— Vincent Van Gogh

South Belt Bike Trail ,February, 27, 2010

"The light of the moon is the trance of the world"

— James Thomson (B.V.)

 

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What's in the Sky This MonthOrion

 

"It was one of those dewy, clear, starry nights, oppressing our spirit, crushing our pride, by the brilliant evidence of the awful loneliness, of the hopeless obscure insignificance of our globe lost in the splendid revelation of a glittering, soulless universe. I hate such skies. Daylight is friendly to man toiling under a sun which warms his heart; and cloudy soft nights are more kindly to our littleness."

—Joseph Conrad in Chance (1914)

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