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.