Page:Collected poems vol 1 de la mare.djvu/53

 LL from the light of the sweet moon Tired men lie now abed; Actionless, full of visions, soon Vanishing, soon sped.

The starry night aflock with beams Of crystal light scarce stirs: Only its birds — the cocks, the streams, Call 'neath heaven's wanderers.

All silent; all hearts still; Love, cunning, fire fallen low: When faint morn straying on the hill Sighs, and his soft airs flow.