The Moon Was But A Chin Of Gold

I used to teach English at the high school level, and one of my favorite poems to introduce to students  was Emily Dickinson's "The Moon was but a Chin of Gold."

Before I would share the poem with them, though, I would always project an image of a crescent moon on the board.  I would then ask them to suggest images that the moon could represent.  Of course, I would always get typical responses like  a canoe, a banana, a finger nail, a smile, and the letter "C."

I would then tell them that Emily Dickinson came up with an image of a crescent moon that no student had EVER guessed -- and then the students would try to come up with a few more guesses:  A comma.  A fish hook.  A hammock.  And so on.
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Not once did anyone ever guess "a chin of gold" -- especially as part of a "perfect face" which ultimately turns upon the world below.  

The lesson was very simple, and it really got the students to start thinking of new ways to observe the world.

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A few years ago, I wrote a song based on this poem, and the music is below.  I hope you like it.  
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The poem:
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By Emily Dickinson:

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 Blonde –
Her Cheek – a Beryl hewn –
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 confer
Were such Her Silver Will –

And what a privilege to be
But the remotest Star –
For Certainty She take Her Way
Beside Your Palace Door –

Her Bonnet is the Firmament –
The Universe – Her Shoe –
The Stars – the Trinkets at Her Belt –
Her Dimities – of Blue –

The lyrics based on the poem:
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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 amplest Blonde
Her cheek – a Beryl hewn –
Her Eye unto the Summer Dew
The likest I have known--
 
       And what a priv’lege to be
       But the remotest Star
       For Certainty she takes her way
       Beside your palace door
 
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 bonnet’s the firmament
The Universe – Her shoe
The stars – the trinkets at her Belt
In her sea of blue
 
       And what a priv’lege to be
       But the remotest Star
       For Certainty she takes her way
       Beside your palace door

Click the images below to enlarge.

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