Strange Fits Of Passion Have I Known: And I Will Dare To Tell, But In The Lover'S Ear Alone, What Once To Me Befell. When She I Loved Looked Every Day Fresh As A Rose In June, I To Her Cottage Bent My Way, Beneath An Evening-Moon. Upon The Moon I Fixed My Eye, All Over The Wide Lea; With Quickening Pace My Horse Drew Nigh Those Paths So Dear To Me. And Now We Reached The Orchard-Plot; And, As We Climbed The Hill, The Sinking Moon To Lucy'S Cot Came Near, And Nearer Still. In One Of Those Sweet Dreams I Slept, Kind Nature'S Gentlest Boon! And All The While My Eye I Kept On The Descending Moon. My Horse Moved On; Hoof After Hoof He Raised, And Never Stopped: When Down Behind The Cottage Roof, At Once, The Bright Moon Dropped. What Fond And Wayward Thoughts Will Slide Into A Lover'S Head! "O Mercy!" To Myself I Cried, "If Lucy Should Be Dead!"