Her hair was long and fine, and the wind would lift it; her face was fair, and another than the wind should kiss it.

The night would not then be so slow in going.
He turned upon his side, and looked along the grassy summit to the woods upon the opposite slope and to the distant mountains.

Dull silver, immutable, perpetual, they reared themselves to meet the moonbeams.
Between him and those stern and changeless fronts, pallid as with snows, stretched the gray woods.

The moon shone very brightly, and there was no wind.

So unearthly was the quiet of the night, so solemn the light, so high and still and calm the universe around him, that awe fell upon his soul.