midnight
But the true tradition of this stream I think I myself possess , and I will narrate it in your own way : It was a friar of orders free , A friar of Rubygill : At the greenwood-tree a vow made he , But he kept it very ill : A vow made he of chastity , But he kept it very ill . He kept it , perchance , in the conscious shade Of the bounds of the forest wherein it was made : But he roamed where he listed , as free as the wind , And he left his good vow in the forest behind : For its woods out of sight were his vow out of mind , With the friar of Rubygill . In lonely hut himself he shut , The friar of Rubygill ; Where the ghostly elf absolved himself , To follow his own good will : And he had no lack of canary sack , To keep his conscience still . And a damsel well knew , when at lonely midnight It gleamed on the waters , his signal-lamp-light : `` Over ! over ! '' she warbled with nightingale throat , And the friar sprung forth at the magical note , And she crossed the dark stream in his trim ferryboat , With the friar of Rubygill . '' `` Look you now , '' said Robin , `` if the friar does not blush .