Classic Poem

Into the night she stepped, alone:
The murmuring wind made gentle moan,
The stars in heaven were thickly strown.

Wind of the West, who make your moan,
Stars in heaven thickly strown,
Here is one who is your own.

Soothe her with your murmurings:
Touch her with your gentle wings,
Give her peace: for peace she brings.

Silent watchers of the night,
Here is one as pure and bright.
And peace supreme and infinite.