midnight
And all around , on the dewy ground , The quivering moonbeams stray ; And the light and shade , By the branches made , Give motion and life to the silent glade , Like fairy elves at play . And far o'er the meads , through its fringe of reeds , Flashes the slender rill ; Like a silver thread , By some spirit led , From an urn of light by the moonbeams fed , It winds round the distant hill . When sleep 's soft thrall falls light on all , That lady 's eyes unclose ; To all that is fair In earth and air , When none are awake her thoughts to share , Or her spirit discompose . And tones more dear , to her fine-tuned ear , On the midnight breezes float ; Than the sounds that ring From the minstrel 's string , When the mighty deeds of some warrior king Inspire each thrilling note . * * * * * `` So there 's a hole in the ballad , '' said the old tar , looking up in his daughter 's blushing face . `` Julee , my dear , what does all this mean ? '' `` It would be a difficult matter for Miss Julee to explain , '' said Aunt Dorothy .