XIIWhat counsel has the hooded moonPut in thy heart, my shyly sweet,Of Love in ancient plenilune,Glory and stars beneath his feet—A sage that is but kith and kinWith the comedian Capuchin?Believe me rather that am wiseIn disregard of the divine,A glory kindles in those eyesTrembles to starlight. Mine, O Mine!No more be tears in moon or mistFor thee, sweet sentimentalist.
What counsel has the hooded moonPut in thy heart, my shyly sweet,Of Love in ancient plenilune,Glory and stars beneath his feet—A sage that is but kith and kinWith the comedian Capuchin?Believe me rather that am wiseIn disregard of the divine,A glory kindles in those eyesTrembles to starlight. Mine, O Mine!No more be tears in moon or mistFor thee, sweet sentimentalist.