“Sweet moonlight, shining full and clear,Why do you light my torture here?How often have you seen me toil,Burning last drops of midnight oil.On books and papers as I read,My friend, your mournful light you shed.If only I could flee this denAnd walk the mountain-tops again,Through moonlit meadows make my way,In mountain caves with spirits play -Released from learning's musty cell,Your healing dew would make me well!”