Classic Poem

‘There is a charm, which I can scarce dispel,
That holds the treasures which you would obtain;
But harken to perform what I shall tell,
And, ten to one, you will not hear in vain;
Depart therefrom, you 'll sing another strain!—
The fifteenth night, that from her sky serene,
September's moon shines on the harvest plain,
Rise from your bed the midnight hours between,
And seek the island shore all noiseless and unseen.