MOONLIGHT
.
"
HOW
sweet
the
moon
now
sleeps
upon
yon
bank
,
"
Cried
Nature's
first-born
Shakspeare
.
,
and
delighted
saw
Her
fairy
elves
play
many
a
wily
prank
,
As
she
sail'd
on
majestically
slow
.
Her
pale
beams
tremble
o'er
the
sleeping
flower
,
The
tall
trees
lengthen
in
the
sombre
gloom
;
Her
brighter
gleams
now
light
the
leafy
tower
,
Now
show
the
Gothic
arches
of
the
dome
.
A
wandering
cloud
will
sometimes
cross
her
way
,
Her
head
oft
bowing
lets
the
stranger
pass
,
While
golden
stars
the
canopy
enlay
,
And
shadowy
forms
fly
o'er
the
waving
grass
.
In
solemn
groves
,
where
silver
lamps
late
hung
,
The
fear-struck
traveller
sees
huge
spectres
rise
;
Sees
grisly
ghosts
and
stalking
phantoms
come
,
As
darkness
draws
the
curtain
of
the
skies
.
In
yonder
tower
the
meditative
mind
May
suit
the
subject
to
the
scene
around
,
Find
some
memento
murmur
in
the
wind
,
Or
print
the
smallest
leaf
that
strews
the
ground
.