86 
It is a fanciful imagining, 
To blend aught sad or sorrowful with one 
Who thus triumphantly doth round her fling, 
Far in the silent night, her wondrous spell; 
Reigning in air, upon her viewless throne. 
The sovereign queen of else subdued sound. 
The very leaves hang moveless—tlie small bell 
Of many a river flow’ret, that all day. 
Rang with the music of the busy bee. 
And danced, delighting in the sunshine gay. 
Now stilly hangs, as if attentively 
It listened to the night-bird’s music sweet. 
Over the stream. 
Where drooping willow-leaves the waters meet. 
The moonbeams gleam. 
Broadly and calmly, in a radiant sheet 
Of lustre bright. 
Which e’en the pinion of the smallest breeze, 
/ 
With winnow light. 
May break to shining fragments. The huge trees. 
Bending their stately heads the river by. 
Are miiTored in it, as majestical 
As they now stand; while on each leaf-crest high 
The lady moon has placed a coronal 
Of her encrowning light. Now, over all 
The slumbering vale she holds her silent'^reign. 
Empress of sight, as the night-bird of sound. 
