Hark! is that a horn I hear, In cloudland winding sweet— And bell-like clash of bridle-rein, And silver-shod light feet?
Is it the elfin laughterOf fairies riding faint and high, Beneath the branches of the moon, Straying through the starry sky?
Is it in the globèd dewSuch sweet melodies may fall?Wood and valley—all are still, Hushed the shepherd's call.