Your touch is wintry, childish, wild,
And lit with love and jocund mood;
But I need a hug warm and mild,
As gentle heat now seems like food.
Pretty are you and nice to watch
As you play `neath the gibbous moon
Among trees, owls, and sands that rush,
Like a maid joyful in a noon.
Rejoice with your nocturnal friends –
Aye, both the furred, starry and winged;
I should sleep ere the dawn ascends,
Lest my wits be found tired and dimmed.
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