The moon's my constant mistress,
And the lonely owl my marrow.
The flaming drake
And the night crow make
Me music to my sorrow.
With an host of furious fancies,
Whereof I am commander.
With a burning spear
And a horse of air,
To the wilderness I wander.
I know more than Apollo,
For oft when he lies sleeping
I see the stars
At bloody wars
In the wounded welkin weeping.
By a knight of ghosts and shadows,
I summoned am to tourney
Ten leagues beyond
The wild world's end -
Methinks it is no journey.
The moon embrace her shepherd,
And the queen of love her warrior,
While the first doth horn
The star of morn,
And the nect the heavenly farrier.
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