Beneath a moon that bares its mournful spleen,
The world is cloaked in melancholy sheen,
The midnight shadows, long and lean,
A sorrowful scene, a haunting dream.
The moon’s melancholic mood, so serene,
Casting its light upon the world unseen,
A solitude that fills the heart with keen,
A sorrowful song, an eerie and keen.
The night is still, yet the moon does scream,
Its mournful spleen, a sorrowful theme,
A melancholic mood, a haunting scheme,
A world of shadows, a sorrowful dream.
And in this moonlit world of sorrow and woe,
A beauty lingers, a haunting glow,
A melancholic mood, a sorrowful show,
A moon that shines, a sorrowful beau.