Under the April Moon

Oh, well the world is dreaming

Under the April moon,

Her soul in love with beauty,

Her senses all a-swoon!

Pure hangs the silver crescent

Above the twilight wood,

And pure the silver music

Wakes from the marshy flood.

O Earth, with all thy transport,

How comes it life should seem

A shadow in the moonlight,

A murmur in a dream?