I saw the round moon rising from the sea,
One summer evening from a lonely isle
Hard by the northern coast. A ruined pile,
Seat of some ancient lord of Brittany,
Revealed its lines in ghostly tracery,
As o'er the placid waves for many a mile
The mellow moonlight, "like a silver Nile,"
Came floating, flowing, pulsing down to me.
I stood in mute bewilderment, entranced;
That throbbing mystery, the ocean, seemed
With all its might and mystery enhanced,
In the white radiance over all that streamed;
And the enchantment, as the night advanced,
Was deeper, sweeter than my soul had dreamed!
