What Counsel Has The Hooded Moon Put In Thy Heart, My Shyly Sweet, Of Love In Ancient Plenilune, Glory And Stars Beneath His Feet, A Sage That Is But Kith And Kin With The Comedian Capuchin? Believe Me Rather That Am Wise In Disregard Of The Divine, A Glory Kindles In Those Eyes Trembles To Starlight. Mine, O Mine! No More Be Tears In Moon Or Mist For Thee, Sweet Sentimentalist.