Yet for this we travelledWith hope, and not alone,In the country of ourselves,In a country of bright stone.
Meet me by moonlight alone, and then I will tell you a tale. Must be told by the moonlight alone, in the grove at the end of the vale! You must promise to come, for I said I would show the night-flowers their queen. Nay, turn not away that sweet head,'tis the loveliest ever was seen.j. augustine wade