Then I had an idea—lunatic, lunar, perhaps. I would look through Auden's collected poems and seek out every line having to do with the moon; to see if it jogged my memory. One thing that struck me, once I started this task, was that there are surprisingly few references to the moon in these poems. In a collection of eight hundred and ninety-seven pages, I doubt if there are twenty. From Moon Landing, there is "Unsmudged, thank God, my Moon still queens the Heavens as she ebbs and fulls…" or from The Age of Anxiety, Mild, unmilitant, as the moon rose / And reeds rustled…" or from "Nocturne," "Appearing unannounced, the moon / Avoids a mountain's jagged prongs / And seeps into the open sky / Like one who knows where she belongs" —all wonderful lines, but not what I remembered. The closest was "White hangs the waning moon / A scruple in the sky…" also from The Age of Anxiety. This still didn't seem right.