To Jane

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

     The keen stars were twinkling And the fair moon was rising among them,           Dear Jane:      The guitar was tinkling, But the notes were not sweet till you sung them           Again.      As the moon's soft splendor O'er the faint cold starlight of heaven           Is thrown,      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,           Tonight;      No leaf will be shaken Whilst the dews of your melody scatter           Delight.      Though the sound overpowers, Sing again, with your dear voice revealing           A tone      Of some world far from ours Where music and moonlight and feeling           Are one.