Percy Bysshe Shelley                             To Jane         The keen stars were twinkling, And the fair moon was rising among them,                 Dear Jane. The guitar was tinkling,         But the notes were not sweet till you sung them                 Again.         As the moon's soft splendour O'er the faint cold starlight of Heaven                 Is thrown,         So your voice most tender To the strings without soul had then given                 Its own.         The stars will awaken, Though the moon sleep a full hour later                 To-night;         No leaf will be shaken Whilst the dews of your melody scatter                 Delight.         Though the sound overpowers, Sing again, with your dear voice revealing                 A tone         Of some world far from ours, Where music and moonlight and feeling                 Are one. 1822