1 moon—'tis thus that odes begin—T never could determine Why thou art always masculine In German half suspect although to Newton The thought did not oceur—It is because the eccentric Teuton Calls every him a Herr So surely I whose wits have strayed May hymn thee though I deem thee maid, 2
O thou whose cyclic nodes contract Thy parallactic brow O thou wh rain is clearly cracked As mine is cracking now For that thy gait is inexact Astronomers allow, with perfect tact (When they were young had they been whacked The truth they would avow But little wot they of the pact Between us two, I thou! O thou! O the O thou!
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.