Came over me, and I forgot the moon
As if I never knew it was in heaven.
’Tis strange—for I am very happy now
While leaning in her light, and I could glide
Most sweetly to the sleep of pleasant dreams
Beneath her stilly influence—but I know
That if a voice I think of were to come
And call me now, my own ungentle name
(Her melting lip!) would seem more beautiful.