poem moon

The moon but a chin of gold 

A night or two ago 

and now  she turns her perfect  face 

upon the world below.

Here forehead is of amplest blond 

Here cheek like beryl stone 

here eye unto the  summer dew 

The likest  i have known 

Her lips of amber never part 

but what must  be the smile 

upon her friend she  could bestow 

were such here silver  will

and what privilege to be 

but the remotest star 

fro certainly here way might pass

beside your twinkling door 

Here bonnet the  firmament  

the universe her shoe 

The stats the trinkets  at her belt 

Here dimities of blue .