Thomas Hood

The moon, the moon, so silver and cold,
Her fickle temper has oft been told,
Now shade--now read more

The moon, the moon, so silver and cold,
Her fickle temper has oft been told,
Now shade--now bright and sunny--
But of all the lunar things that change,
The one that shows most fickle and strange,
And takes the most eccentric range,
Is the moon--so called--of honey!

O bed! O bed! delicious bed!
That heaven upon earth to the weary head.

O bed! O bed! delicious bed!
That heaven upon earth to the weary head.

She stood breast-high amid the corn,
Clasp'd by the golden light of morn,
Like the sweetheart of read more

She stood breast-high amid the corn,
Clasp'd by the golden light of morn,
Like the sweetheart of the sun,
Who many a glowing kiss had won.

And soon
Their hushing dances languished to a stand,
Like midnight leaves when, as the Zephyrs swoon,
read more

And soon
Their hushing dances languished to a stand,
Like midnight leaves when, as the Zephyrs swoon,
All on their drooping stems they sink unfanned.

Jasmine is sweet, and has many loves.

Jasmine is sweet, and has many loves.