Night stepped on land at measured pace

Night stepped on land at measured pace,

Leans dreaming on the mountains' face,

Her eye beholds time's golden pair of scales

Completely balanced at that time of day.

More boldly the springs rush forth and they ring,

In the ear of the night, their mother, they sing

Of the day

that was today.

That age-old, ancient lullaby,

It tires her, shuts ear and eye;

To her the heaven's blue still sounds more sweet

And all the curvèd spans of hours that fleet.

But ever the springs their carols repeat,

The waters continually sing in their sleep

Of the day

that was today.