Oh, If It Be To Choose And

The Moon, The Moon, So Silver And Cold, Her Fickle Temper Has Oft Been Told, Now Shade--now Bright And Sunny-- But Of All The Lunar Things That Change, The One That Shows Most Fickle And Strange, And Takes The Most Eccentric Range, Is The Moon--so Called--of Honey!

How Widely Its Agencies Vary,- To Save, To Ruin, To Curse, To Bless,- As Even Its Minted Coins Express, Now Stamp'd With The Image Of Good Queen Bess, And Now Of A Bloody Mary.

Well For The Drones Of The Social Hive That There Are Bees Of An Industrious Turn, Willing, For An Infinitesimal Share Of The Honey, To Undertake The Labor Of Its Fabrication.

Peace And Rest At Length Have Come, All The Day's Long Toil Is Past; And Each Heart Is Whispering, "home, Home At Last!"

So Mayst Thou Live, Dear! Many Years, In All The Bliss That Life Endears