The Shakespearean sonnet about my dog

You hound are a starry night over fog,
fallen in love with the Epiphany.
The moon may be mine! Told the moony dog.
With you tender garden – is so dreamy.

Bewitchment of stars, your ability.
Your hunting is dearer observation.
A moonlit night is your eternity.
May the soft ghost be in adoration!

Roses awoken in glory – starlet.
You can taste, listen and feel them galore.
Enchant the nectar like druidic glade!
It was drunk from Ovidian amphorae.

Be, you dog, a heart-shaped meek poet!
Broken wings of loneliness are dead.