Vespers in the temples, Vespers in the trees
Songs of hurried tempests sounding o'er the seas.
Tapers on the altars, starlight in the skies,
Songs of saddened spirits, winged with someone’s sighs,
O'er the hills the twilight, in the vale ‘tis dim.
And life’s fitful mystery steals into a hymn.
In the glare of morning, beauty soonest dies
When she wears at evening robes all wove of sighs,
Then her face is brightest, evening sanctified
Its shadows are a sunrise that points to Paradise.