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

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

At the close of the day, when the hamlet is still
And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove,
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At the close of the day, when the hamlet is still
And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove,
When nought but the torrent is heard on the hill
And nought but the nightingale's song in the grove.

Now came still evening on; and twilight gray
Had in her sober livery all things clad:
Silence read more

Now came still evening on; and twilight gray
Had in her sober livery all things clad:
Silence accompanied; for beast and bird,
They to they grassy couch, these to their nests,
Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale.

Day, like a weary pilgrim, had reached the western gate of
heaven, and Evening stooped down to unloose the read more

Day, like a weary pilgrim, had reached the western gate of
heaven, and Evening stooped down to unloose the latchets of his
sandal shoon.

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.

To me at least was never evening yet
But seemed far beautifuller than its day.

To me at least was never evening yet
But seemed far beautifuller than its day.

One by one the flowers close,
Lily and dewy rose
Shutting their tender petals from the moon.

One by one the flowers close,
Lily and dewy rose
Shutting their tender petals from the moon.

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.