I miss you at night as I gaze upon the stars
I miss you during the day as clouds cover my sun
I miss you and want to hold you in my arms
I miss you so much, my dear, I feel no more fun. ...
Still sing the mocking fairies, as of old,
Beneath the shade of thorn and holly-tree;
The west wind breathes upon them, pure and cold,
And wolves still dread Diana roaming free
In secret woodland with her company.
'Tis thought the peasants' hovels know her rite
When now the wolds are bathed in silver light,
And first the moonrise breaks the dusky grey,
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