George Gordon Byron

It is the hour when from the boughs
The nightingale’s high note is heard -
It is the hour — when lovers’ vows
Sweet in every word
They seem sweet in every whispered word.

And gentle winds and waters near
Make music to the lonely ear.
Each flower the dews have lightly wet,
Stars and sky are met…
And in the sky the stars are met.

And on the wave is deeper blue,
And on the leaf a browner hue -
And in the Heaven, that’s clear obscure
Softly dark… darkly pure…