The moon I was slung by the earth,
  with who I was hinged, and so encircled.
  I loved him according to my orbit,
  no more, no less, like a ring so ceaseless;
  yet also couldn't be more, or less,
  since the force kept the distance.
  I would glow if I shared a part of his view,
  and I grew gloom if I sometimes lost the chance.
  The light was so dazzling. The routine was so dizzying.
  I could hardly stand and had to confess:
  so tragic it was that while I spun around
  it was not me your ring did crown.