Your soul is a landscape of fantasy
Charmed by the masks and bergamasks that rise
To dance and play the lute and seem to be
Sad underneath a fanciful disguise.
And what they sing is all in minor key
Of conquering love, of living in delight.
They don't believe how happy they may be,
And their song merges with the calm moonlight,
With the calm, beautiful and sad moonlight
Sending the birds among the trees to dream,
Coaxing long sobs from fountains in the night-
The marbled fountains, their ecstatic stream.