The moon is rising yonder, and the night it’s drawing nigh
So get down upon your knees, little Beatrice, look upwards now and sigh
For your age it is tender and your lips are but in first bloom
Fear not the world’s pleasant but painful lessons
You will learn them one by one in the comfort of your room
For there are two balls that shine above you
One at night and one by day
And they touch your face at first so lightly
With their long and awesome ray

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