Away! away! for I will fly to thee,
Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,
But on the viewless wings of Poesy,
Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee! tender is the night,
And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,
Cluster’d around by all her starry Fays;
But here there is no light,
Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown
Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.

Fiction Writing Prompt: Write a story behind this verse.

Journaling Prompt: Write about a night vision you had.

Art Prompt: Queen Moon on her Throne

Non-Fiction / Speechwriting Prompt: Tell your audience a story set by moonlight.

Photo Credit: chiaralily on Flickr
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