Luyện nghe bài hát When The Moon Is On The Wave

the poem was by the noble lord Byron (1788 - 1824)

the moon is on the wave,
and the in the grass,
and the on the grave,
and the on the morass
the falling stars are shooting,
and the owls are hooting,
and the leaves are still
in the of the hill,
shall my be upon thine,
with a power and a sign.

thy slumber may be deep,
yet thy shall not sleep;
are shades which will not vanish,
there are thoughts thou not banish,
by a power to unknown,
thou canst be alone;
thou art wrapt as a shroud,
thou art in a cloud;
and for ever shalt dwell
in the of this spell.

though seest me not pass by,
thou shalt feel me with eye
as a that, though unseen,
be near thee, and hath been;
and in that secret dread
hast turn'd around thy head,
thou shalt I am not
as thy on the spot,
and the power thou dost feel
shall be thou dost feel
shall be what must conceal.

and a voice and verse
hath baptized thee a curse;
and a of the air
hath begirt thee a snare;
in the there is a voice
shall thee to rejoice;
and to shall night deny
all the quiet of her
and the day have a sun,
which shall make wish it done.

from thy false I did distil
an essence which hath strength to
from thy own heart I did wring
the black blood in its blackest
thy own smile I snatch'd the snake,
for there it coil'd as in a
from thy own smile I the snake,
for there it as in a brake;
from thy own lip I drew the the
which all these their chiefest harm;
in every poison known,
I found the strongest was own.

by thy cold and serpent smile,
by thy gulfs of guile,
by that seeming virtuos eye,
by thy soul's hypocrisy;
by the of thine art
pass'd for human thine own heart;
by thy delight in pain,
and by thy of cain,
I call thee! and compel
to be thy proper hell!

and on thy head I the vial
which doth this trial;
nor to slumber, nor to die,
be in thy destiny;
though thy death shall still near
to thy wish, but as a
lo! the spell now works thee,
and the clankless chain bound thee;
o'er thy heart and together
the word been pass'd - now wither!