Shadows, the pale grey wings of night,
Sweep over the sky,
And low in the west the lingering light
Wanes — like a sigh
From the fervent heart of the day
Passing away:
Then afar
Shineth a star.
Shadows, the pale grey wings of Death,
Sweep over my heart;
And far in the dark a voice calleth,
“Come ye, depart.”
There lingers no light from the day
Passing away,
But afar
Shineth a Star!