Rolling downward, through the midnight,
Comes a glorious burst of heav-nly song;
-Tis a chorus full of sweetness-
And the singers are an angel throng. ...
Sometimes, to solace my sad heart, I say,
Though late it be, though lily-time be past,
Though all the summer skies be overcast,
Haply I will go down to her, some day,
And cast my rests of life before her feet,
That she may have her will of me, being so sweet
And none gainsay!
