Classic Poem

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.