I remember in the evening's dusk,
The singing breeze in the drying husk;
Along woods edge, the whippoorwill's cry,
So alluring its call angels would sigh.
Yes, I remember the whippoorwill,
But do the angels remember still?
The call that echoed the end of day
When man would put his labour away;
And meditate with the singing breeze
And the whippoorwill amongst the trees.
I wonder if angels sigh of choice,
For never now do I hear its voice.