A

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

1-я

2-я

3

3-я

2

4-я

1

5-я

6-я

E

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

1-я

2-я

3-я

1

4-я

3

5-я

2

6-я

F#m

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

1-я

1

2-я

1

3-я

1

4-я

4

5-я

3

6-я

1

D#m

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

1-я

2

2-я

4

3-я

3

4-я

1

5-я

6-я

Am

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

1-я

2-я

1

3-я

3

4-я

2

5-я

6-я

G

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

1-я

3

2-я

3-я

4-я

5-я

1

6-я

2

C

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

1-я

2-я

1

3-я

4-я

2

5-я

3

6-я

F

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

1-я

1

2-я

1

3-я

2

4-я

3

5-я

6-я

1

Cm

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

1-я

4

2-я

1

3-я

4-я

1

5-я

3

6-я

Ab

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

1-я

4

2-я

1

3-я

1

4-я

1

5-я

2

6-я

3

B

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

1-я

1

2-я

4

3-я

3

4-я

5-я

6-я

Eb

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

1-я

3

2-я

4

3-я

2

4-я

1

5-я

6-я

Under the Moon
(W. B. Yeats)

   A             E         F#m           D#m
I have no happiness in dreaming of Brycelinde,
        F#m                    E    Am         G
Nor Avalon the grass-green hollow, nor Joyous Isle,
                  C                  G         E    Am
Where one found Lancelot crazed and hid him for a while;
     G           F                                  E
Nor Ulad, when Naoise had thrown his sail upon the wind;
Nor lands that seem to dim to be burdens on the heart:
Land-under-Wave, where out of the moon's light and the sun's
Seven old sisters wind the threads of the long-lived ones,
Land-of-the-Tower, where Aengus has thrown the gates apart,
And Wood-of-Wonders, where one kills an ox at dawn,
To find it when night falls laid on a golden bier.
Therein are many queens like Branwen and Guinevere;
And Niamh and Laban and Fand, who could change to an otter or fawn,
And the wood-woman, whose lover was changed to a blue-eyed hawk;
And whether I go in my dreams by woodland, or dun, or shore,
Or on the unpeopled waves with kings to pull at the oar,
                                        F          E        Am
I hear the harp-string praise them, or hear their mournful talk.

E   Am                F    Am          G
Because of something told under the famished horn
Cm               Ab         Cm               B
Of the hunter's moon, that hung between the night and the day,
     Eb             B           G                Cm
To dream of women whose beauty was folded in dismay,
      B          Ab         G                C
Even in an old story, is a burden not to be borne.