The Moon

There is a lovely lady

Whom I have often seen;

She’s fair, bright and beautiful

And she was born a queen.

She looks bot mild and gentle

Though she lives in a regal state;

And her attendant nobles

In countless myriads wait.

Her mein is humble and with them

Her dignity she shares;

She would not her lustrous eye

Should dim the light of theirs

If we draw our curtains

We draw them not too tight

She steals a glance into our room

And wishes us goodnight.