A dial in the twilight lay,
Reflecting back pale evening’s ray,
When stealthily two lovers came
And leaned beside its silent frame:
“Mute marker of the moments’ flight,
Oh! dial, tell us of the night!”
—But who might trace time’s tangled way
On dials dim with twilight gray?
As brightly now the midnight moon
Rode o’er the starry arch of noon,