George Gordon Noel Byron

It is the hour when from the boughs
The nightingale's high note is heard;
It is the read more

It is the hour when from the boughs
The nightingale's high note is heard;
It is the hour when lovers' vows
Seem sweet in every whispered word;
And gentle winds, and waters near,
Make music to the lonely ear.
Each flower the dews have lightly wet,
And in the sky the stars are met,
And on the wave is deeper blue,
And on the leaf a browner hue,
And in the heaven that clear obscure,
So softly dark, and darkly pure.
Which follows the decline of day,
As twilight melts beneath the moon away.

But quiet to quick bosoms is a hell,
And there hath been thy bane.

But quiet to quick bosoms is a hell,
And there hath been thy bane.

While Washington's a watchword, such as ne'er
Shall sink while there's an echo left to air.

While Washington's a watchword, such as ne'er
Shall sink while there's an echo left to air.

Most glorious night!
Thou wert not sent for slumber!

Most glorious night!
Thou wert not sent for slumber!

There is a tide in the affairs of women
Which, taken at the flood, leads--God knows where.

There is a tide in the affairs of women
Which, taken at the flood, leads--God knows where.