When shadows o'er the landscape creep,
And twinkling stars pale vigils keep;
When flower-cups all with dewdrops 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 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!