Don’t tell me the moon is shining;
show me the glint of light on broken glass.
They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon.
S. Etole says
It’s been a long while since I have read Edward Lear’s poem …
hope this finds you dancing in the moonlight.
Mince and quince sound pretty good.