I. <br />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 /> <br />II. <br />As the moon's soft splendour <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 />III. <br />The stars will awaken, <br />Though the moon sleep a full hour later <br />To-night; <br />No leaf will be shaken <br />Whilst the dews of your melody scatter <br />Delight. <br /> <br />IV. <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-the-keen-stars-were-twinkling/
