How Sweet the Moonlight Sleeps

By - Someone who's name I may not speak

"How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!
Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music creep in our ears: Soft
stillness and the night become the touches of sweet harmony.
Look, how the floor of heaven is thick inlaid with patines of bright
gold: There's not the smallest orb that thou behold'st but in his motion
like an angel sings still quiring to the young eyed cherubim Such
harmony is in immortal souls.
But while this muddy vesture of decay doth grossly close it in we cannot
hear it.
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!
Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music creep in our ears: Soft
stillness and the night become the touches of sweet harmony.
Soft stillness, and sweet harmony."

Penned by my hand on the 13th of Severin, in the year 122 MA.