I Hate the Moon by Robert Graves — Read

(_After a moonlight patrol near the Brickstacks_)

I hate the Moon, though it makes most people glad, / And they giggle and talk of silvery beams -- you know! / But _she_ says the look of the Moon drives people mad, / And that's the thing that always frightens me so.

I hate it worst when it's cruel and round and bright, / And you can't make out the marks on its stupid face, / Except when you shut your eyelashes, and all night / The sky looks green, and the world's a horrible place.

I like the stars, and especially the Big Bear / And the W star, and one like a diamond ring, / But I _hate_ the Moon and its horrible stony stare, / And I know one day it'll do me some dreadful thing.