It is the hour

It is the hour when from the boughs

The nightingale's high note is heard --

It is the hour -- when lovers' vows

Seem sweet in every whisper'd word --

And gentle winds and waters near

Make music to the lonely ear.

Each flower the dews have lightly wet,

And in the sky the stars are met:

And on the wave is deeper blue,

And on the leaf a browner hue --

And in the Heaven, that clear obscure

So softly dark -- and darkly pure,

That follows the decline of day

As twilight melts beneath the moon away.