 | The Poetical Works of John Payne |  |
I.
THE still earth sleeps in the Summer night,
The air is full of the moon;
All over the land, in her silver sight,
The roses blossom, ruddy and white;
The world is joyous with June.
The air is full of the moon;
All over the land, in her silver sight,
The roses blossom, ruddy and white;
The world is joyous with June.
There goes a moan in the greenwood hoar,
A moan, but and a wail:
What sighing is that the breezes bore?
What plaining is that which shrilleth o'er
The note of the nightingale?
A moan, but and a wail:
What sighing is that the breezes bore?
What plaining is that which shrilleth o'er
The note of the nightingale?
A green glade lies in the middle wood:
Under the moonlight pale,
The greensward glitters many a rood.
Who lies on the grass, bedabbled with blood?
A knight in his silver mail.
Under the moonlight pale,
The greensward glitters many a rood.
Who lies on the grass, bedabbled with blood?
A knight in his silver mail.
128
A murdered knight on the greensward lies,
Under the witch-white moon:
The air is thick with his dying sighs;
The nightbirds flutter about his eyes;
The corbies over him croon.
Under the witch-white moon:
The air is thick with his dying sighs;
The nightbirds flutter about his eyes;
The corbies over him croon.
| The Poetical Works of John Payne | |