The Moon

The Moon was but a chin of gold*
A night or two ago,
And now she turns her perfect face
Upon the world below.

Her forehead is of amplest blond*;
Her cheek like beryl* stone;
Her eye unto the summer dew
The likest I have known.

Her lips of amber* never part;
But what must be the smile
Upon her friend she could bestow
Were such her silver will.

And what a privilege to be
But the remotest star!
For certainly her way might pass
Beside your twinkling door.

Her bonnet is the firmament,
The universe her shoe,
The stars the trinkets at her belt,
Her dimities** of blue.
---Emily Dickinson

*Imagery for the moon is usually "silvery." This uses more of the "yellow", and sometimes the Moon (esp. when full) does have a yellowish cast
**Dimity: A sheer, crisp (double-threaded; "di") cotton fabric. It is woven with raised stripes or checks and was used mostly for dresses or curtains.