What counsel has the hooded moon 
Put in thy heart, my shyly sweet, 
Of Love in ancient plenilune, 
Glory and stars beneath his feet -- - 
A sage that is but kith and kin 
With the comedian Capuchin? 

Believe me rather that am wise 
In disregard of the divine, 
A glory kindles in those eyes 
Trembles to starlight. Mine, O Mine! 
No more be tears in moon or mist 
For thee, sweet sentimentalist.