Lunar spectre flies over Albion
Silver pale against violet sky
Entwined in sea of star-bourne mists
Cradle of the night.

How oft I wonder what you hold?
What secrets lie behind your veil?
Cold, white are your eyes, your voice
What elves live in your valleys?

I cast these thoughts into the night,
Net of spider webs to the astral sea
Into fading color pools of twilight
That some bottle wrought of stellar threads
	may chance return to me.