NIGHT is at hand; the night winds fret afar,
The north winds moan.
The waterfowl are gone
To cover o'er the sand dunes; dawn alone
Shall call them from the sedges. Some bright star

Mirrors her charms upon the silver shoal;
And I have ta'en the Lute, my only friend;
The vibrant chords beneath my fingers blend;
They sob awhile, then as they slip control,