Hunt and Lee, comps. The Book of the Sonnet. 1867. | | II. To the Moon | By Hugh Peters (18071831) |
| HAIL, great Diana, virgin Queen of night! | |
Pale, silent orb, mild Luna, new or full, | |
Crescent or gibbous! if thought not too dull, | |
List to the prayer of a poor rhyming wight! | |
Behold thy servant in a piteous plight! | 5 |
My soul is sad, my coat is growing old; | |
My heart is heavy, and my heels are cold; | |
Both in and out I am a sorry sight; | |
Ideas and ink are gone,I cannot write, | |
And when I could, they said I was a loon | 10 |
For offering incense at thy shrine, O Moon! | |
They call me mad, and that unmans me quite: | |
Regina, hear me! if I m not a dunce, | |
Moonstrike my brain, and make me so at once! | | | |
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