The keen stars were twinkling <br />And the fair moon was rising among them, <br /> Dear Jane: <br /> The guitar was tinkling, <br />But the notes were not sweet till you sung them <br /> Again. <br /> As the moon's soft splendor <br />O'er the faint cold starlight of heaven <br /> Is thrown, <br /> So your voice most tender <br />To the strings without soul had then given <br /> Its own. <br /> <br /> The stars will awaken, <br />Though the moon sleep a full hour later, <br /> Tonight; <br /> No leaf will be shaken <br />Whilst the dews of your melody scatter <br /> Delight. <br /> Though the sound overpowers, <br />Sing again, with your dear voice revealing <br /> A tone <br /> Of some world far from ours <br />Where music and moonlight and feeling <br /> Are one.<br /><br />Percy Bysshe Shelley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-jane/
