With night-hued shadows dance the silver strips
Of lovely Mistress Moon's visage ashine.
The crickets sing the fairness of her lips,
Their strings lay praise in rows out line by line.
There once was a grunt so doubtlessly fair,
Black cats came out of his mouth with much flair.
They spread far and wide
On Earth's every side,
A Pawn's Muse
Thy bitterness, again to me it calls
With naughty fingers and so sweet a voice,
In-soaking all my heart's unsavoury galls
And gets to me enthralled—far gone is choice.
My darling babe,
Do not let the nightlings
Bug you again now,
Go On, O Ash
Go on, o ash—dye all thy grey,
And leave the naked wind to say
'Farewell', to sing low in the deep
A song of rest, or endless sleep.