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At That Hour

 At that hour when all things have repose, 
O lonely watcher of the skies, 
Do you hear the night wind and the sighs 
Of harps playing unto Love to unclose 
The pale gates of sunrise? 

When all things repose, do you alone 
Awake to hear the sweet harps play 
To Love before him on his way, 
And the night wind answering in antiphon 
Till night is overgone? 

Play on, invisible harps, unto Love, 
Whose way in heaven is aglow 
At that hour when soft lights come and go, 
Soft sweet music in the air above 
And in the earth below.

by James Joyce
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