The dim-winged spirits of the night br Do fear and serve me well. br They creep from out the hedges of br The garden where I dwell. br br I wave my arms across the walk. br The troops obey the sign, br And bring me shimmering shadow-robes br And cups of cowslip-wine. br br Then dig a treasure called the moon, br A very precious thing, br And keep it in the air for me br Because I am a King.