Copyright © 2001 by Paul Howarth
All Rights Reserved

The moon in silent brightness
Rides o'er the mountain's brow;
The mist in fleecy whiteness
Hath clad the vale below,
The mist in fleecy whiteness
Hath clad the vale below.

Above the woodbine bower
Dark waves the trysting tree:
It is, it is the hour!
Oh come, my love, to me!
It is, it is the hour!
Oh come, my love, to me!

Oh come my love!
Oh come to me!
Oh come my love!

By Arthur Sullivan
Generated by NoteWorthy Composer

The Moon in Silent Brightness
Lyrics
Vocal
Right Hand
Left Hand