The south-wind strengthens to a gale,
Across the moon the clouds fly fast,
The house is smitten as with a flail,
The chimney shudders to the blast.
– Robert Bridges, “Low Barometer.”
…
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!
Here will we sit and let the sounds of music
Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night
Become the touches of sweet harmony.
– Shakespeare, “The Merchant of Venice,” V, i.
Witches Of The Craft® 