letra de william sharpe - on a nightingale in april - richard mitchley
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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!
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