184
TO THE MOON.
Fair mistress Moon, that up on high
With many a brilliant star,
Goes sailing through the midnight sky—
Pray tell me what you are?
I long to have a nearer view,
To scan thy beauties through and through.
I see a face in thee, sweet Moon,—
Art thou a curious elf,
Who look'st to find upon our earth
Some fair one like thyself?
Or hast thou but a wish to see
What passes in society?
Art thou a curious elf,
Who look'st to find upon our earth
Some fair one like thyself?
Or hast thou but a wish to see
What passes in society?
