Wanderlust

Though moon will set 'ware thee the dawn
For sunrise will become
And simple needs thou haveth not
Though grow you old to young

And 'ware thee of the honey-tongued
Caressing you with guile
By dawn we must be far from here
Though yet we stay awhile

Though the years were planned ahead
Never knew quite what to do
For when I asketh for the mockingbird
They gaveth me the shrew

And yea! I heard it when you called me
But was stone-cast; stunned and blind
For when the star fell back into the sky
Alas, it ate my mind.