Sonnet Ii Poem by G. Silver

If you, being the moon, shone half as bright,
During your ghostly, nighttime vigilance,
It would not impede, nor impair mine sight,
In truth 'twould hardly make a difference.
For bright you do shine, and skillfully hung,
Trance-like orb up in the velvet blue sky,
Oh such pretty tales, the fates they have spun,
Oh such pretty tales for you and for I.
Ah, those poor stars! How I do pity them!
Who compete with thee, moon, so bright and round,
And likewise to all us earthenbound men,
Who must be content to stare from the ground.
May all of your dreams be true to you soon,
And bad luck to all who dare curse the moon.