The wonder of the ever-healing night,
No grief or loneliness or rapt delight
Or weight of silence ever brought to you
Slumber or rest; only your voices grew
More high and solemn; slowly, with hushed flight,
Ye saw the echoing hours go by, long-drawn,
Nor ever stirred, watching with fathomless eyes
And with your countless clear antiphonies
Filling the earth and heaven, even till dawn,
Last risen, found you with its first pale gleam,