Night-Piece

YE hooded witches baleful shapes that moan 
Quench your fantastic lanterns and be still;
For now the moon through heaven sails alone 
Shedding her peaceful rays from hill to hill.

The faun from out his dim and secret place 5
Draws nigh the darkling pool and from his dream
Half-wakens seeing there his sylvan face
Reflected and the wistful eyes that gleam.


To his cold lips he sets the pipe to blow
Some drowsy note that charms the listening air: 10
The dryads from their trees come down and creep
Near to his side; monotonous and low 
He plays and plays till at the woodside there
Stirs to the voice of everlasting sleep.

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