Tune-tongued like bells, as thus they sang:—
(SONG OF THE HOURS.)
Between the gates of night and morn,
With sleepless hands and sleepless eyes,
We watch the sun and moon outworn,
The silent stars that sink and rise.
In hidden chambers of the night,
The thread of Fate we sit and spin,
Through death and life, in dark and light,
From life’s slim staff to wind and win.