Does she feel lonely in the peopled sky,
The only moon among a starry host;
They all together in brave company,
She wandering solitary as a ghost?
Or does she grieve that we so soon forget
The perfect beauty of her tempered ray,
Drowsily praising her sweet beams, but yet
Keeping our real joyance for the day?
Poor, pallid moon, with a reproachful face
She eyes the humming world as on it moves,