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

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

I was heavy with the even,
When she lit her glimmering tapers
Round the day's dead sanctities.
read more

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.

And whiter grows the foam,
The small moon lightens more;
And as I turn me home,
read more

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

When day is done, and clouds are low,
And flowers are honey-dew,
And Hesper's lamp begins to read more

When day is done, and clouds are low,
And flowers are honey-dew,
And Hesper's lamp begins to glow
Along the western blue;
And homeward wing the turtle-doves,
Then comes the hour the poet loves.

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.

But when eve's silent footfall steals
Along the eastern sky,
And one by one to earth reveals
read more

But when eve's silent footfall steals
Along the eastern sky,
And one by one to earth reveals
Those purer fires on high.

The pale child, Eve, leading her mother, Night.

The pale child, Eve, leading her mother, Night.

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.

The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
read more

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