o gentle Night, music.

hey, you, I caught!
at last! Night!
your finger, gentle
was on my lid, of eye,
touching,
telling,
hoping,
hope it whispered to me.
and, I, I, listened, in glee.
then!
then came the morn,
on my vision, blowing her horn.
rising,
in awe, I touched the lid's mark,
then sang like a meadow lark!