Moonlight.
AS here I sit within my lonely room,
A spirit seems abroad upon the air,
That o'er me flings an influence mild and sweet,
Yet mournful and mysterious. It is soft,
And calm, and hallowed, yet so very sad,
That tears are on my eyelids It unlocks
Memory's pale urn, and to my soul reveals
Treasures long hidden in its depths. It calls
Forth, from their cold and silent graves, the forms
Of dearly loved one's faded long ago.
They seem to live again; they move once more
Beside me as they moved in life; they breathe
Sweet accents in my ear; they rise from earth
On angel plumes and gently beckon me
A spirit seems abroad upon the air,
That o'er me flings an influence mild and sweet,
Yet mournful and mysterious. It is soft,
And calm, and hallowed, yet so very sad,
That tears are on my eyelids It unlocks
Memory's pale urn, and to my soul reveals
Treasures long hidden in its depths. It calls
Forth, from their cold and silent graves, the forms
Of dearly loved one's faded long ago.
They seem to live again; they move once more
Beside me as they moved in life; they breathe
Sweet accents in my ear; they rise from earth
On angel plumes and gently beckon me
