Though natured like the sailing moon
In beauty's murderous brood,
She walked awhile and blushed awhile
And on my pathway stood
Until I thought her body bore
A heart of flesh and blood.
But since I laid a hand thereon
And found a heart of stone
I have attempted many things
And not athing is done,
For every hand is lunatic
That travels on the moon.
She smiled and that transfigured me
And left me but a lout,
Maundering here, and maundering there,
Emptier of thought
Than the heavenly circuit of its stars
When the moon sails out.
https://terms.naver.com/%EC%84%B8%EA%B3%84%EB%AC%B8%ED%95%99/%EC%B2%AB%EC%82%AC%EB%9E%91-2OCi7o0EZcw4w2MbV51ATJ