I pray thee stoop at this mysterious hour
To the dark earth from thy all radiant home,
And hold communion with thy weeping friend
As in the hours departed.
Ah, I feel,
Sweet spirit, thou hast heard and blessed my prayer!
I hear the rustling of thy angel-plumes
About me and around—the very air
Is glowing with a thousand seraph thoughts,
Bright as the sparkles of a shooting star—