The Moon was but a Chin of Gold

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 —