A Serenade

From afar, in the dead of night, By the moon's dim, uncertain light, To salute thee with loving rite, I come, sweetheart, I come.

Oh! refuse not to hear my lay; From the depths of my soul I pray. Let my accents my love betray To thee, sweetheart, to thee.

As I sing in the shade below, As the words of my greeting flow, I am thrilled with the fervent glow Of love, sweetheart, of love.

I have come from the silent moor, In the still of the midnight hour; I have come by my passion's power For thee, sweetheart, for thee.

Then awake from thy slumbers light; Ere he speed on his homeward flight, Bid thy lover a last good-night. Good-night, sweetheart, good-night!