To-night the liquid wave hath not,
(Illumined by the moonlit beam
Playing upon the lake beneath,
Like frolic in a fairy dream—)
The liquid wave hath not, to-night,
In all her moonlit pride, a fair
Gift-like to them that, on thy lip,
Do breathe and laugh and home it there.
Then come, love, come!
To-night, to-night, my gentle one,