| HE that is by Mooni now | |
| Sees the water-sapphires gleaming | |
| Where the River Spirit, dreaming, | |
| Sleeps by fall and fountain streaming | |
| Under lute of leaf and bough!— | 5 |
| Hears what stamp of Storm with stress is, | |
| Psalms from unseen wildernesses | |
| Deep amongst far hill-recesses— | |
| He that is by Mooni now. | |
| |
| Yea, for him by Mooni's marge | 10 |
| Sings the yellow-hair'd September, | |
| With the face the gods remember, | |
| When the ridge is burnt to ember, | |
| And the dumb sea chains the barge! | |
| Where the mount like molten brass is, | 15 |
| Down beneath fern-feather'd passes | |
| Noonday dew in cool green grasses | |
| Gleams on him by Mooni's marge. | |
| |
| Who that dwells by Mooni yet, | |
| Feels in flowerful forest arches | 20 |
| Smiting wings and breath that parches | |
| Where strong Summer's path of march is, | |
| And the suns in thunder set! | |
| Housed beneath the gracious kirtle | |
| Of the shadowy water-myrtle— | 25 |
| Winds may kiss with heat and hurtle, | |
| He is safe by Mooni yet! | |
| |
| Days there were when he who sings | |
| (Dumb so long through passion's losses) | |
| Stood where Mooni's water crosses | 30 |
| Shining tracks of green-hair'd mosses, | |
| Like a soul with radiant wings: | |
| Then the psalm the wind rehearses— | |
| Then the song the stream disperses— | |
| Lent a beauty to his verses, | 35 |
| Who to-night of Mooni sings. | |
| |
| Ah, the theme—the sad, gray theme! | |
| Certain days are not above me, | |
| Certain hearts have ceased to love me, | |
| Certain fancies fail to move me, | 40 |
| Like the effluent morning dream. | |
| Head whereon the white is stealing, | |
| Heart whose hurts are past all healing, | |
| Where is now the first, pure feeling? | |
| Ah, the theme—the sad, gray theme! | 45 |
| . . . |
| Still to be by Mooni cool— | |
| Where the water-blossoms glister, | |
| And by gleaming vale and vista | |
| Sits the English April's sister, | |
| Soft and sweet and wonderful! | 50 |
| Just to rest beneath the burning | |
| Outer world—its sneers and spurning— | |
| Ah, my heart—my heart is yearning | |
| Still to be by Mooni cool! | |
