The keen stars were twinkling,And the fair moon was rising among them,Dear Jane.The guitar was tinkling,But the notes were not sweet till you sung themAgain.As the moon's soft splendourO'er the faint cold starlight of HeavenIs thrown,So your voice most tenderTo the strings without soul had then givenIts own.The stars will awaken,Though the moon sleep a full hour laterTo-night;No leaf will be
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