The moon? It is a griffen's egg,
Hatching tomorrow night.
And how the little boys will watch
With shouting and delight
To see him break the shell and stretch
And creep across the sky.
The boys will laugh. The little girls,
I fear may hide and cry.
Yet entle will the griffen be,
Most decorous and fat,
And walk up to the Milky Way
And lap it like a cat.