The keen stars were twinkling
And the fair moon was rising among them,
Dear Jane.
The guitar was tinkling
5But the notes were not sweet ’till you sung them
Again.—
As the moon’s soft splendour
O’er the faint cold starlight of Heaven
Is thrown—
10 So your voice most tender
To the strings without soul had then given
Its own.
The stars will awaken,
Though the moon sleep a full hour later,
15 Tonight;
No leaf will be shaken
While the dews of your melody scatter
Delight.
Though the sound overpowers
20Sing again, with your dear voice revealing
A tone
Of some world far from ours,
Where music and moonlight and feeling
Are one.
Bright wanderer, fair coquette of Heaven,
To whom alone it has been given
To change and be adored for ever …
Envy not this dim world, for never
5But once within its shadow grew
One fair as you, but far more true—
She left me at the silent time
When the moon had ceased to climb
The azure dome of Heaven’s steep,
10And like an albatross asleep,
Balanced on her wings of light,
Hovered in the purple night,
Ere she sought her Ocean nest
In the chambers of the west.—
15She left me, and I staid alone
Thinking over every tone,
Which though now silent to the ear
The enchanted heart could hear
Like notes which die when born, but still
20Haunt the echoes of the hill:
And feeling ever—O too much—
The soft vibrations of her touch
As if her gentle hand even now
Lightly trembles on my brow;
25And thus although she absent were
Memory gave me all of her
That even fancy dares to claim.—
Her presence had made weak and tame
All passions, and I lived alone
30In the time which is our own;
The past and future were forgot
As they had been, and would be, not.—
But soon, the guardian angel gone,
The demon reassumed his throne
35In my faint heart … I dare not speak
My thoughts; but thus disturbed and weak
I sate and watched the vessels glide
Along the ocean bright and wide,
Like spirit-winged chariots sent
40O’er some serenest element
To ministrations strange and far;
As if to some Elysian star
They sailed for drink to medicine
Such sweet and bitter pain as mine.—
45And the wind that winged their flight
From the land came fresh and light,
And the scent of sleeping flowers
And the coolness of the hours
Of dew, and the sweet warmth of day
50Was scattered o’er the twinkling bay;
And the fisher with his lamp
And spear, about the low rocks damp
Crept, and struck the fish who came
To worship the delusive flame:
55Too happy, they whose pleasure sought
Extinguishes all sense and thought
Of the regret that pleasure [ ]
Seeking life alone, not peace.