Christabel
‘Tis the middle of night By the lonesome wood, The nightingale is heard And the willow is all full of cries, Yet all is still unto my ear, Deep and dulcet, so close to me.
The rushes bend, And the crickets time their sounds, With rhythmic ease in tones entwined, Yet my heart beats heavy. For dear Christabel is far away Whilst here in twilight’s thirst I stay.
- Samuel Taylor Coleridge