ENNUI

By Tom Kettle

I saw the loath moon rise,

The sun go sweatily down;

There was famine of sleep in his eyes;

She was a floating frown.

They nodded heavily

Over an ancient roof,

With a pout o’ the shoulders, she,

He with a grind o’ the hoof.

And the moon said to the sun:

“Another day to irk us!”

The sun to the touzled moon,

“Imagine it a circus.”