And t'ere I stood, still as a statue,
fascinated more, and againeth -- at th' light
t'at streamed naughtily from th' sea of
thy eyes -- which t'is time resembled t'ose vivid rays
of th' harvest moon. My love, my love! Come to me
but once more, so t'at I could cherish thee,
tenderly and warmingly,
in my arms.