Fly not yet, 'tis just the hour
When pleasure, like the midnight flower
That scorns the eye read more

Fly not yet, 'tis just the hour
When pleasure, like the midnight flower
That scorns the eye of vulgar light,
Begins to bloom for sons of night.

The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
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The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices.

The holy time is quiet as a Nun
Breathless with adoration.

The holy time is quiet as a Nun
Breathless with adoration.

Think in the morning. Act in the noon. Eat in the evening. Sleep in the night.

Think in the morning. Act in the noon. Eat in the evening. Sleep in the night.

And whiter grows the foam,
The small moon lightens more;
And as I turn me home,
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And whiter grows the foam,
The small moon lightens more;
And as I turn me home,
My shadow walks before.

Day hath put on his jacket, and around
His burning bosom buttoned it with stars.

Day hath put on his jacket, and around
His burning bosom buttoned it with stars.

Just then return'd at shut of evening flowers.

Just then return'd at shut of evening flowers.

Day's lustrous eyes grow heavy in sweet death.

Day's lustrous eyes grow heavy in sweet death.

I was heavy with the even,
When she lit her glimmering tapers
Round the day's dead sanctities.
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I was heavy with the even,
When she lit her glimmering tapers
Round the day's dead sanctities.
I laughed in the morning's eyes.