The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes | ||
SERENADE
The moon is up, and soft and bright,
And tender is her light in June,
For is this not a lovely night,
And is not that a splendid moon?
And tender is her light in June,
For is this not a lovely night,
And is not that a splendid moon?
Oh, that you knew how often, love,
When I was in the tropic sea,
My eyes were on the moon above
While thought was wandering back to thee.
When I was in the tropic sea,
My eyes were on the moon above
While thought was wandering back to thee.
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And when we lost the polar star,
Far southward of the central line,
To you I struck the soft guitar,
And was your moonlight song like mine?
Far southward of the central line,
To you I struck the soft guitar,
And was your moonlight song like mine?
For mine was love, as still it is;
And shall it be forever crost,
And must I in a night like this
But sigh to find “Love's Labour Lost”?
And shall it be forever crost,
And must I in a night like this
But sigh to find “Love's Labour Lost”?
The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes | ||