The moon came down to my bed,
“I am Lady Seléne,” she said
“If I lie by your side
And be your bride,
The dawn will find you dead.”

But I kissed her sweet, cold breast,
And answered: “I'd rather rest
In your arms one night
Than take delight
For æons with the blest!”

And now forever alone,
On the wandering winds I moan,
While clear of stain,
In chill disdain,
Seléné keeps her throne.