Goddess, goddess, dream you or drowse you?
Horned Diana of Madison Square,
Bending your bow at the stars that house you
Hunt you the Hyades, way up there?
Over my chase curves the moon-ship, cruising,
Flapping the skies like a cloud-white drake;
Cellarer Mars and his stars are bousing
Glories of light at her cruddled wake.
Sherman, Sherman, where are you riding?
Winds atoss in your brazen hair,