The gleesome thoughts of man and maiden both.
Thy voice is fullest at the flush of day,
But after midnight there is much to say
In weird remembrance of an April oath.
XIV.
And when the moon is seated on the throne
Of some white cloud, with her attendants near—
The wondering stars that hold her name in fear—
Oh! then I know that mine Amati's tone
Is all for me, and that he stands alone,