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.