"When the shy star goes forth in heaven
All maidenly, disconsolate,
Hear you amid the drowsy even
One who's singing by your gate.
His song is softer than the dew
And he is come to visit you.
O bend no more in revery
When he at eventide is calling,
Nor muse: Who may this singer be
Whose song about my heart is falling?
Know you by this, the lover's chant
'Tis I that am your visitant."
"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 enclose,
The pale gates of sunrise?"