For then the moon that hangs aloft
These thronged streets, lightless now and soft,
Unnoted, yea, e’en like a shred
Of yon wide white cloud overhead,
Sharp in the dark star-sprinkled sky
Low o’er the willow boughs shall lie;
And when our chamber we shall gain
Eastward our drowsy eyes shall strain
If yet perchance the dawn may show. 
—­O Love, go with us as we go,
And from the might of thy fair hand
Cast wide about the blooming land
The seed of such-like tales as this! 
—­O Day, change round about our bliss,
Come, restful night, when day is done! 
Come, dawn, and bring a fairer one!

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Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & Co.

Edinburgh & London