Classic Poem

The Sun appeared so smug and bright,
One day, that I made bold
To ask him whaThe did each night
With all his surplus gold.

He flushed uncomfortably red,
And would not meet my eye
" I travel round the world, " he said,
" And travelling rates are high. "

With frigid glance I pierced him through.
He squirmed and changed his tune.
Said he: " I will be frank with you:
I lend it to the Moon.

" Poor thing! You know she's growing old
And hasn't any folk
She suffers terribly from cold,
And half the time she's broke. "

That evening on the beach I lay
Behind a lonely dune,
And as she rose above the bay
I buttonholed the Moon.

" Tell me about that gold, " said I.
I saw her features fall.
" You see, it's useless to deny;
The Sun has told me all. "

" Sir! " she exclaimed, " how can you try
An honest Moon this way?
As for the gold, I put it by
Against a rainy day. "

I smiled and shook my head. " All right,
If you must know, " said she,
" I change it into silver bright
Wherewith to tip the Sea.

" He is so faithful and so good,
A most deserving case;
If he should leave, I fear it would
Be hard to fill his place. "

When asked if they accepted tips,
The waves became so rough;
I thought of those at sea in ships,
And felt I'd said enough.

For if one virtue I have learned,
'Tis tact; so I forbore
To press the matter, though I burned
To ask one question more.

I hate a scene, and do not wish
To be mixed up in gales,
But, oh, I longed to ask the Fish
Whence came their silver scales!