Some roofs, and chimneys, and a glimpse of heaven,
Made up the whole look-out of Number Seven.
“MEET ME BY MOONLIGHT ALONE.”
Yet something in the prospect so absorbed her,
She seemed quite drowned and dozing in a dream;
As if her own belov’d full moon still orb’d her,
Lulling her fancy in some lunar scheme,
With lost Lorenzo, may be, for its theme—
Yet when Lorenzo touch’d her on the shoulder,