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Poem	Oh, what so subtle as the spell The silvery moonlight weaves? Oh, what so sad and what so glad, And what so soon deceives. A vision of the long ago— Long years of pain between; A mocking dream of happier days— A veil of silver sheen. A passing gleam of falling stars— An idle summer's dream; The sudden waking of a heart— Things are not as they seem. Oh, silver moon, indeed you hold The secrets of the heart; And none can know and none can guess The mystery of thy art. A silver length of rippling waves, A glance from happy eyes; A strain of music low and sweet— The heart in rapture lies. Yet, ah, how faithless are the vows Made 'neath the summer moon; As changing as the falling rays That fade away as soon. For love is like the subtle spell The sliver moonlight weaves; And what so sad and what so glad And what so soon deceives?
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