to the moon.
187
The lover, when thine orb is full,
In many a lady's bower,
Will tell a tale in burning words,
Of Love's subduing power;
And swear by thy soft beams, to be
A pattern of fidelity.
In many a lady's bower,
Will tell a tale in burning words,
Of Love's subduing power;
And swear by thy soft beams, to be
A pattern of fidelity.
And many a poet like myself,
Will woo thee in his song,
And sing perhaps more pleasantly,
Nor keep thee half so long:
But lady Moon—so mild and dear.
I have a secret for thine car.
Will woo thee in his song,
And sing perhaps more pleasantly,
Nor keep thee half so long:
But lady Moon—so mild and dear.
I have a secret for thine car.
Don't whisper it to idle airs,
Lest they should waft it on;
But, there is somebody I love,
From thy poor votary gone:
I'm sure that if he gaze on thee,
His thought is fixed the while, on me.
Lest they should waft it on;
But, there is somebody I love,
From thy poor votary gone:
I'm sure that if he gaze on thee,
His thought is fixed the while, on me.
