Sorrows Of The Moon

<br>This evening the moon dreams more lazily<br>As some fair woman, lost in cushions deep<br>With gentle hand caresses listlessly<br>The contour of her breasts before she sleeps<br>On velvet backs of avalanches soft<br>She often lies enraptured as she dies<br>And gazes on white visions aloft<br>Which like a blossoming to heaven rise<br>When sometimes on this globe, in indolence<br>She lets a secret tear drop down, by chance<br>A poet, set against oblivion<br>Takes in his hand this pale and furtive tear<br>This opal drop where rainbow hues appear<br>And hides it in his breast far from the sun