An Ariette for Music.
To a Lady singing to her Accompaniment on the Guitar.
Text: Percy Bysshe Shelley
As the moon's soft splendor
O'er the faint, cold starlight of heaven
Is thrown,
So thy voice most tender
To the strings without soul has given
Its own.
The stars will awaken,
Though the moon sleep a full hour later
Tonight:
No leaf will be shaken
Whilst the dews of thy melody scatter
Delight.
Though the sound overpowers,
Sing again, with thy sweet voice revealing
A tone
Of some world far from ours,
Where music and moonlight and feeling
Are one.
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