Misdeeds of the Moon

On my face alone and unaware,

Since I sleep so far from thee,

The moon, itself malignity,

Casts tonight a woeful glare.

It says that look—let it not blare!

But feigning it will never be, —

There is no peace sans thee for me;

I know it well, no doubting there,

The look then, why then should it be?

What have Earth and Moon to share?

Bah, come to me, the answer’s there!

Thou art the sun, shine bright on me!

Paul Verlaine