What counsel has the hooded moon Put in thy heart, my shyly sweet,
Of Love in ancient plenilune,
Glory and stars beneath his feet — - A sage that is but kith and kin With the comedian Capuchin?
Believe me rather that am wise In disregard of the divine,
A glory kindles in those eyes Trembles to starlight.
Mine,
O Mine!
No more be tears in moon or mist For thee, sweet sentimentalist.
