I UNDER the moon to her silver sands Comes Morgana, Queen Le Fay, Out of her dusky, dim-lit lands Up to the moon-bathed, silver sands, To frolic with her faery bands Until the streak of day. II Her hair is a goblet of golden light, Beautiful Queen Le Fay, Her gown is gossamer soft as night, Woven of mists and of moonbeams white; @3There never was such a queen bedight In all the world, men say.@1 III Under the moon by the singing sea, By the curve of the crystal bay Her elfin vassals loud in glee Awaken the stars with revelry, And piercing sweet is the minstrelsy That breaks on the stumbling day. IV Then down where the faery lanthorns glow They vanish far away To sleep by banks where the violets grow, Where daffodils dream and the rain-drops go, Where the springs of the little rivers flow— For a twelve-month and a day. |