i.
They say, they say, but what use is saying
To those without seeing: comparing
To what can’t be compared.

Diamonds are stones, and lakes are sands
Compared to that which hangs; that portal
To the heavens in the night.

I play, I play, for piano keys
Are eyes to forest floors, but never
Have I walked on the moon.

Days are dreams, dreams are days,
Life taketh sight, death giveth eyes,
Sweet death show me the moon.

I pray, I pray, angel Gabriel will come
One day, sit beside me and play
A moonlight sonata.

ii.
Walking, walking, with no company,
Except my friend, is not dreary,
My friend the moon.

They say, they say, on such evening,
To the soul my friend gives healing,
A cold evening I walk.

Piano, Piano, I hear a sound,
So to it I follow, followed and found
A warm house and girl.

‘O angel! angel!’ she said screaming
‘Won’t you play that immortal beaming?
Play for me the moon.’

iii.
He played, he played, my heart open,
Soft notes gentle, soft and broken,
He flew me to the moon.

Flying, flying, I flew and wept,
Then on a crater my head rest,
I slept on the moon.

Words, words, words; words I cannot find,
Except that Beethoven, dear Beethoven,
No longer am I blind.

–Sheamonspeare