The Moonlight Sonata.

The notes still float upon the air, Just as they did that night. I see the old piano there,— Oh, that again I might!

Her young voice haunts my eager ear; Her hair in the candle-light Still seems an aureole,—a tear Is my spectroscope to-night.

I hear her trembling tell me "No," And I know that she answered right But I throw a kiss to the stars, and though She be wed she will dream to-night.