"Star Light, Star Bright--"

Star, that gives a gracious dole,
What am I to choose?

Oh, will it be a shriven soul,
Or little buckled shoes?

Shall I wish a wedding-ring,
Bright and thin and round,

Or plead you send me coveringA
newly spaded mound?

Gentle beam, shall I implore
Gold, or sailing-ships,

Or beg I hate forevermore
A pair of lying lips?

Swing you low or high away,
Burn you hot or dim;

My only wish I dare not sayLest
you should grant me him.