Under the twinkling crescent moon
where dewdrops trickle to the stream
he stands among the shadows
and lifts his eyes to dream.

High up in the castle turret
where the candle glows like gold
he knows she hums a mellow tune
that tells of times of old.

Her voice casts magic on his heart
whenever he doth hear it
but the beauty of her face
bestills his breath when e’er he nears it.

But yon behind the castle walls
where ripples cannot touch
she knows not how his heart sings,
although he longs for her so much.

So as the mist begins to rise
and stars dance lightly to her tune
he sits content to merely listen
under the crescent moon.