AT THE MID HOUR OF NIGHT
by: Thomas Moore (1779-1852)
MORE POEMS BY THOMAS MOORE
- T the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, I fly
- To the lone vale we loved, when life shone warm in thine eye;
- And I think oft, if spirits can steal from the regions of air
- To revisit past scenes of delight, thou wilt come to me there,
- And tell me our love is remember'd even in the sky.
- Then I sing the wild song it once was rapture to hear,
- When our voices commingling breathed like one on the ear;
- And as Echo far off through the vale my sad orison rolls,
- I think, O my love! 'tis thy voice from the Kingdom of Souls
- Faintly answering still the notes that once were so dear.