Publisher's Synopsis
At that hour when all things have repose, O lonely watcher of the skies, Do you hear the night wind and the sighsOf harps playing unto Love to uncloseThe pale gates of sunrise?When all things repose, do you aloneAwake to hear the sweet harps playTo Love before him on his way, And the night wind answering in antiphonTill night is overgone?Play on, invisible harps, unto Love, Whose way in heaven is aglowAt that hour when soft lights come and go, Soft sweet music in the air aboveAnd in the earth below.When the shy star goes forth in heavenAll maidenly, disconsolate, Hear you amid the drowsy evenOne who is singing by your gate.His song is softer than the dewAnd he is come to visit you.O bend no more in reveryWhen he at eventide is calling, Nor muse: Who may this singer beWhose song about my heart is falling?Know you by this, the lover's chant, 'Tis I that am your v
