I would be an honest love
Fit for keeping. Corn for reaping,
But the moon has seen enough.
Slyly peeping, sets me weeping.
She has called me wise and cruel.
See the tears my eyes bejewel.
Fear prevents me sleeping.

My own star says leave me not.
Hurt me never. Love me ever.
But the moon, all day forgot,
Mocks the giver. Calls me clever,
Smiles, applauds such artifice.
Recommends my avarice.
Calls it great endeavour.

I would not be pain to you,
Take your sharing without caring.
Would not make a game of you,
Without sparing, beyond bearing,
But the moon will ridicule,
Tells me still you are a fool.
Speaks of cunning snaring.