Of cool sweet dew and radiance mild
The moon a web of silence weaves
In the still garden where a child
Gathers the simple salad leaves

A moondew stars her hanging hair
And moonlight kisses her young brow
And, gathering she sings an air:
O bella bionda! Sei come l'onda!

Be mine, I pray, a waxen ear
To shield me from her childish croon
And mine a shielded heart for her
Who gathers simples of the moon