O lovely moon, how well do I recall <br />The time,--'tis just a year--when up this hill <br />I came, in my distress, to gaze at thee: <br />And thou suspended wast o'er yonder grove, <br />As now thou art, which thou with light dost fill. <br />But stained with mist, and tremulous, appeared <br />Thy countenance to me, because my eyes <br />Were filled with tears, that could not be suppressed; <br />For, oh, my life was wretched, wearisome, <br />And _is_ so still, unchanged, belovèd moon! <br />And yet this recollection pleases me, <br />This computation of my sorrow's age. <br />How pleasant is it, in the days of youth, <br />When hope a long career before it hath, <br />And memories are few, upon the past <br />To dwell, though sad, and though the sadness last!<br /><br />Count Giacomo Leopardi<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-the-moon-9/
