Ah, little Dear-my-Soul, you know—you know whereof the moonbeam spake.
She had been chosen for the angel, I suppose, because she was as pale and sweet as a moonbeam.
A moonbeam rested on her loosened hair and her dress that was torn to tatters.
I'm to be in the first big number, I think—one of the Moonbeam girls.
How lovely he was, this moonbeam babe, so white, so gentle ...