My soul doth rest, since thou, O Night! art nigh.
When thou hast cast o’er all the sleeping land
Thy darkened robe, the symbol of thy state,
Alone beneath heaven’s mightiness I stand,
Musing on life, eternity, and fate;
Mayhap with concentrated thought I try
To pierce the cloud of heaven’s great mystery.
’Tis then sweet music in the air I hear,
Like rippling waters falling soft and low;
With soul enraptured do I list, yet fear—