Strange fits of passion have I known: And I will dare to tell, But in the Lover's ear alone, What once to me befell. When him I loved every day; Fresh as a rose in June, I to his ever wish bent my way. Beneath an evening-moon. Upon the moon I fixed my eye, All over the wide meadow; With quickening pace my horse drew near Those paths so dear to me. And now we reached the orchard-plot: And, as we climbed the hill, The sinking moon to His grassy bed: Came near, and nearer still. In one of those sweet dreams I slept, Kind Nature's gentlest blessing; And all the while my eyes I kept On the descending moon. My horse moved on:hoof after hoof He raised, and never stopped: When down behind the cottage roof, At once, the bright moon dropped.
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