to the moon.
185
And prithee, lady pure and bright,
What doth thy piercing eye
Discover, by the witching light
Thy gentle beams supply?
Pray tell me, mild and beauteous one,
What hath it ever gazed upon?
What doth thy piercing eye
Discover, by the witching light
Thy gentle beams supply?
Pray tell me, mild and beauteous one,
What hath it ever gazed upon?
No answer?—art thou speechless then?
Upon this earth thou'lt find,
Fair lady Moon, that silence is
No fault of woman-kind:
We've tongues, and we can use them too,
As I shall plainly prove to you.
Upon this earth thou'lt find,
Fair lady Moon, that silence is
No fault of woman-kind:
We've tongues, and we can use them too,
As I shall plainly prove to you.
Strange thoughts come o'er me when I think
Of all thou'st witnessed here;
The thousand, thousand years thou'st rolled,
Unwearied in thy sphere;
Surely thou art a wonderous creature,
Not to grow old in form or feature.
Of all thou'st witnessed here;
The thousand, thousand years thou'st rolled,
Unwearied in thy sphere;
Surely thou art a wonderous creature,
Not to grow old in form or feature.
