WHEN shadows o'er the landscape creep, And twinkling stars pale vigils keep; When flower-cups all with dew-drops gleam, And moonshine floweth like a stream; Then is the hour That hearts which love no longer dream, -- Then is the hour That the voice of love is a spell of power! When shamefaced moonbeams kiss the lake, And amorous leaves sweet music wake; When slumber steals o'er every eye, And Dian's self shines drowsily; Then is the hour That hearts which love with rapture sigh, -- Then is the hour That the voice of love is a spell of power! When surly mastiffs stint their howl, And swathed in moonshine nods the owl; When cottage-hearths are glimmering low, And warder cocks forget to crow; Then is the hour That hearts feel passion's overflow, -- Then is the hour That the voice of love is a spell of power! When stilly night seems earth's vast grave, Nor murmur comes from wood or wave; When land and sea, in wedlock bound By silence, sleep in bliss profound; Then is the hour That hearts like living well-springs sound, -- Then is the hour That the voice of love is a spell of power! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON A VOLUME OF SCHOLASTIC PHILOSOPHY by GEORGE SANTAYANA TO HIS FORSAKEN MISTRESS by ROBERT AYTON THE WINSOME WEE THING by ROBERT BURNS IN THE OLD THEATRE, FIESOLE by THOMAS HARDY ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 20 by PHILIP SIDNEY |