On the Moon

I with borrow'd silver shine

What you see is none of mine.

First I show you but a quarter,

Like the bow that guards the Tartar:

Then the half, and then the whole,

Ever dancing round the pole.

What will raise your admiration,

I am not one of God's creation,

But sprung, (and I this truth maintain,)

Like Pallas, from my father's brain.

And after all, I chiefly owe

My beauty to the shades below.

Most wondrous forms you see me wear,

A man, a woman, lion, bear,

A fish, a fowl, a cloud, a field,

All figures Heaven or earth can yield;

Like Daphne sometimes in a tree;

Yet am not one of all you see.