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