Part 3 — ON A NIGHTINGALE IN APRIL
Reading edition
The yellow moon is a dancing phantom Down secret ways of the flowing shade; And the waveless stream has a murmuring whisper Where the alders wave.
Not a breath, not a sigh, save the slow stream's whisper: Only the moon is a dancing blade That leads a host of the Crescent warriors To a phantom raid.
Out of the Lands of Faerie a summons, A long, strange cry that thrills through the glade:— The gray-green glooms of the elm are stirring, Newly afraid.
Last heard, white music, under the olives Where once Theocritus sang and played— Thy Thracian song is the old new wonder, O moon-white maid!
William Sharp [1855-1905]