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 splendor
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,
 Tonight;
 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.