The Devil's in the moon for mischief; they

Who called her chaste, methinks, began too soon

Their nomenclature; there is not a day,

The longest, not the twenty-first of June,

Sees half the business in a wicked way,

On which three single hours of moonshine smile—

And then she looks so modest all the while!

CXIV.

There is a dangerous silence in that hour,

A stillness, which leaves room for the full soul