Poem by Thomas Love Peacock

Terzetto

Hark! o'er the silent waters stealing,
The dash of oars sounds soft and clear:
Through night's deep veil, all forms concealing,
Nearer it comes, and yet more near.

See! where the long reflection glistens,
In yon lone tower her watch-light burns:
To hear our distant oars she listens,
And, listtening, strikes the harp by turns.

The stars are bright, the skies unclouded;
No moonbeam shines; no breezes wake:
Is it my love, in darkness shrouded,
Whose dashing oar disturbs the lake?

O haste, sweet maid, the cords unrolling;
The holy hermit chides our stay!
Hark! from his lonely islet tolling,
His midnight bell shall guide our way. 

1. The Lady, the Knight, and the Friar
2. Life's Uncertain Day
3. The Magic Bark
4. Lines on the Death of Julia
5. Instead of Sitting Wrapped up in Flannel

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