'Tis the witching hour of night,
Orbed is the moon and bright,
And the stars they glisten, read more

'Tis the witching hour of night,
Orbed is the moon and bright,
And the stars they glisten, glisten,
Seeming with bright eyes to listen-
For what listen they?

The night walked down the sky with the moon in her hand.

The night walked down the sky with the moon in her hand.

A man can do only what a man can do. But if he does that each day he can sleep read more

A man can do only what a man can do. But if he does that each day he can sleep at night and do it again the next day.

In thoughts from the visions of the night, when deep sleep
falleth on men.

In thoughts from the visions of the night, when deep sleep
falleth on men.

A late lark twitters from the quiet skies:
And from the west,
Where the sun, his day's read more

A late lark twitters from the quiet skies:
And from the west,
Where the sun, his day's work ended,
Lingers as in content,
There falls on the old, gray city
An influence luminous and serene,
A shining peace.

The watch-dog's voice that bay'd the whispering wind,
And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind:
read more

The watch-dog's voice that bay'd the whispering wind,
And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind:
There all in sweet confusion sought the shade,
And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made.

Night comes, world-jewelled, . . .
The stars rush forth in myriads as to wage
War with read more

Night comes, world-jewelled, . . .
The stars rush forth in myriads as to wage
War with the lines of Darkness; and the moon,
Pale ghost of Night, comes haunting the cold earth
After the sun's red sea-death--quietless.

And the night shall be filled with music
And the cares, that infest the day,
Shall fold read more

And the night shall be filled with music
And the cares, that infest the day,
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,
And as silently steal away.

Dark the Night, with breath all flowers,
And tender broken voice that fills
With ravishment the listening read more

Dark the Night, with breath all flowers,
And tender broken voice that fills
With ravishment the listening hours,--
Whisperings, wooings,
Liquid ripples, and soft ring-dove cooings
In low-toned rhythm that love's aching stills!
Dark the night
Yet is she bright,
For in her dark she brings the mystic star,
Trembling yet strong, as is the voice of love,
From some unknown afar.