The stillness, all about them, was complete; broken only by the music of his voice.
Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me.
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea.
But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.
Twilight and evening bell,