Strange fits of passion have I known: <br />And I will dare to tell, <br />But in the lover's ear alone, <br />What once to me befell. <br /> <br />When she I loved looked every day <br />Fresh as a rose in June, <br />I to her cottage bent my way, <br />Beneath an evening-moon. <br /> <br />Upon the moon I fixed my eye, <br />All over the wide lea; <br />With quickening pace my horse drew nigh <br />Those paths so dear to me. <br /> <br />And now we reached the orchard-plot; <br />And, as we climbed the hill, <br />The sinking moon to Lucy's cot <br />Came near, and nearer still. <br /> <br />In one of those sweet dreams I slept, <br />Kind Nature's gentlest boon! <br />And all the while my eye I kept <br />On the descending moon. <br /> <br />My horse moved on; hoof after hoof <br />He raised, and never stopped: <br />When down behind the cottage roof, <br />At once, the bright moon dropped. <br /> <br />What fond and wayward thoughts will slide <br />Into a Lover's head! <br />"O mercy!" to myself I cried, <br />"If Lucy hould be dead!"<br /><br />William Wordsworth<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/strange-fits-of-passion-have-i-known-2/
