XXII
Once you lay upon my bosom,
While the long blue-silver moonlight
Walked the plain, with that pure passion
All your own.
Now the moon is gone, the Pleiads 5
Gone, the dead of night is going;
Slips the hour, and on my bed
I lie alone.
Once you lay upon my bosom,
While the long blue-silver moonlight
Walked the plain, with that pure passion
All your own.
Now the moon is gone, the Pleiads 5
Gone, the dead of night is going;
Slips the hour, and on my bed
I lie alone.