A tired old man, weary and wise
Chatting with a girl bearing peridot eyes
Her hair lustrous honey, his silver-stone
Her warmth so exuberant, no one is prone
All can see his quiet affection
And how she responds with her vibrant protection
Not one eye can turn away from this scene
Of the tranquil knight and the spirited queen.

The sky thinks to itself, still vacant and bare
That the vivacious girl seems noble and fair
The search for a ruler might finally be finished!
This eternal dusk might be at last diminished!
But who ever said that she might be inclined
to take on a job that entails her decline?
The sky readied itself to beg and to plead
But to its surprise, she easily agreed.

Meanwhile, the stars were wondering aloud
This man wasn’t vain, this man wasn’t proud
He appeared worthy to take control
His face was gentle, as was his soul
But would this aged person react as the lass?
Would he accept this uncharitable task?
This old man was perceptive; he knew his role
He was willing to give for the good of the whole.

And so, at last, the day was completed
The sun rose in the morning, and at evening, retreated
And then, at nightfall, entered the moon
A lamp in the twilight, a glowing balloon
All knew the sun, shedding light all about her
The moon was humbler, his twinkle not prouder
And anybody who was worth his ton
knew the ballad of the moon and the sun.