the poem was written by
the noble lord Byron (1788 - 1824).
when the moon is on the wave,
and the glow-worm in the grass,
and the meteor on the grave,
and the wisp on the morass
when the falling stars are shooting,
and the answer'd owls are hooting,
and the silent leaves are still
in the shadow of the hill,
shall my soul be upon thine,
with a power and with a sign.
though thy slumber may be deep,
yet thy spirit shall not sleep;
there are shades which will not vanish,
there are thoughts thou canst not banish,
by a power to thee unknown,
thou canst never be alone;
thou art wrapt as with a shroud,
thou art gather'd in a cloud;
and for ever shalt thou dwell
in the spirit of this spell.
though thou seest me not pass by,
thou shalt feel me with thine eye
as a thing that, though unseen,
must be near thee, and hath been;
and when in that secret dread
thou hast turn'd around thy head,
thou shalt marvel I am not
as thy shadow on the spot,
and the power which thou dost feel
shall be what thou dost feel
shall be what thou must conceal.
and a magic voice and verse
hath baptized thee with a curse;
and a spirit of the air
hath begirt thee with a snare;
in the wind there is a voice
shall forbid thee to rejoice;
and to thee shall night deny
all the quiet of her sky;
and the day shall have a sun,
which shall make thee wish it done.
from thy false tears I did distil
an essence which hath strength to kill;
from thy own heart I then did wring
the black blood in its blackest spring;
from thy own smile I snatch'd the snake,
for there it coil'd as in a brake;
from thy own smile I snatch'd the snake,
for there it coil'd as in a brake;
from thy own lip I drew the the charm
which gave all these their chiefest harm;
in proving every poison known,
