“Mute marker of the moments’ flight,
Oh! dial, tell us of the night!”
When (how could night so fast have worn?)
The tell-tale shadow marked the morn.
And as they watched the silv’ry face
Where day his hours began to trace,
In morning’s light, now stronger grown,
This motto o’er the circle shown:
“When lovers meet at eventide,
Time marks not how the moments glide: