  Over the tops of the trees, And over the shallow stream, The shepherd of sunset frees The amber phantoms of dream. The time is the time of vision; The hour is the hour of calm; Hark! On the stillness Elysian Breaks how divine a psalm! Oh, clear in the sphere of the air, Clear, clear, tender and far, Our aspiration of prayer Unto eve’s clear star! O singer serene, secure! From thy throat of silver and dew What transport lonely and pure, Unchanging, endlessly new, And a contemplation of tears, As if the musing of earth Communed with the dreams of the years! Oh, clear in the sphere of the air, Clear, clear, tender and far, Our aspiration of prayer Unto eve’s clear star! O cloistral ecstatic! thy cell In the cool green aisles of the leaves Is the shrine of a power by whose spell Whoso hears aspires and believes! O hermit of evening! thine hour Is the sacrament of desire, When love hath a heavenlier flower, And passion a holier fire! Oh, clear in the sphere of the air, Clear, clear, tender and far, Our aspiration of prayer Unto eve’s clear star! |
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