at that hour when all things have repose,

o lonely watcher of the skies,

do you hear the night wind and the sighs

of harps playing unto love to unclose

the pale gates of sunrise?

when all things repose, do you alone

awake to hear the sweet harps play

to love before him on his way,

and the night wind answering in antiphon

till night is overgone?

play on, invisible harps, unto love,

whose way in heaven is aglow

at that hour when soft lights come and go,

soft sweet music in the air above

and in the earth below.