Six Rounds for three equal voices

It is the hour when from the boughs
   The nightingale's high note is heard --
It is the hour -- when lovers' vows
   Seem sweet in every whisper'd word --
And gentle winds and waters near
Make music to the lonely ear.
   Each flower the dews have lightly wet,
   And in the sky the stars are met:
And on the wave is deeper blue,
And on the leaf a browner hue --
   And in the Heaven, that clear obscure
   So softly dark -- and darkly pure,
That follows the decline of day
As twilight melts beneath the moon away.