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Poem	The Moon was but a Chin of Gold A Night or two ago -- And now she turns Her perfect Face Upon the World below -- Her Forehead is of Amplest Blonde -- Her Cheek -- a Beryl hewn -- Her 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 confer Were such Her Silver Will -- And what a privilege to be But the remotest Star -- For Certainty She take Her Way Beside Your Palace Door -- Her Bonnet is the Firmament -- The Universe -- Her Shoe -- The Stars -- the Trinkets at Her Belt -- Her Dimities -- of Blue --
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