![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix7kDOpkynAzYBFOOiVlB45jOX4G4QwFFS6L4v-bvPWq6LxYzaurQv-UnHn1Qd3H8Iyh74f3c25sUZRH5EWe8VolupTu5dvoAYaEauo_ozSgXQ6A54bUJavkhjLv15-G_-kZPO5Q/s400/moonlight.jpg)
By the moon's cold shine,
Eyeing it in the tenderest way,
And edging it up to catch each ray
Upon her light-penned line.
I did not know what years would flow
Of her life's span and mine
Ere I read another letter of hers
By the moon's cold shine!
I chance now on the last of hers,
By the moon's cold shine;
It is the one remaining page
Out of the many shallow and sage
Whereto she set her sign.
Who could foresee there were to be
Such letters of pain and pine
Ere I should read this last of hers
By the moon's cold shine!
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