{"collection":"cfu","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/cfu/fol/fol55.htm","path":"cfu/fol/fol55.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/cfu/fol/fol55.htm","text":"A Feast of Lanterns, by L. Cranmer-Byng, [1916]\nOut of the glistening gorge below\n The orient moon swims full and slow.\nHair dishevelled and sleeves blown wide,\n Into the kind cool night I ride.\nFaint winds free strange scents anew\n Moon-paled maples bright with dew,\nDripping dreams from bough to bough\n Sigh to my lute, Why sleepest thou?\nHands on the waiting strings fall mute.\n Low my heart answers\u2014\"I am the lute.\"","title":"A Feast of Lanterns: Anon: Riding by Moonlight","type":"page"}