NIGHT

All from the light of the sweet moon

Tired men lie now abed;

Actionless, full of visions, soon

Vanishing, soon sped.

The starry night aflock with beams

Of crystal light scarce stirs:

Only its birds — the cocks, the streams,

Call‘ neath heaven's wanderers.

All silent; all hearts still;

Love, cunning, fire fallen low:

When faint morn straying on the hill

Sighs, and his soft airs flow.