The Moon
The Moon
There is a lovely lady
Whom I have often seen;
She's fair and bright and beautiful
And she was born a queen.
She looks both mild and gentle
Though she lives in a regal state;
And her attendant nobles
In countless myriads wait.
Her main is humble, and with them
Her dignity she shares;
She would not that her lustrous eye
Should dim the light of theirs.
Upon the ground her beaming smiles
And her blessings fall,
She kisses every folded flower
And every silent bird.
If, when we draw our curtains
We draw them not to tight;
She steals a glance into our room
And wishes us goodnight.