The lapse of waters in dim woods; the chime
Of distant bells; the rustle of green trees
By night winds stirred; the drowsy hum of bees
In gardens where the honeysuckles climb;
The cricket's carol, voiced in pulse-like time;
The symphony of rain-drops on the roof, —
All haunted me; yet slumber kept aloof;
Until at last, O friend, thy tuneful rhyme
Came singing through the dark, as I have heard
In autumn twilights, with a glad surprise,
The sudden note of some belated bird.
Entranced I listened to thy magic strain,
Till soon the hovering angel touched my eyes
And in sweet dreams I heard the low refrain.