The sunrise wakes the lark to sing,
The moonrise wakes the nightingale.
Come darkness, moonrise, everything
That is so silent, sweet, and pale,
Come, so ye wake the nightingale.
 
Make haste to mount, thou wistful moon,
Make haste to wake the nightingale:
Let silence set the world in tune
To hearken to that wordless tale
Which warbles from the nightingale.
 
O herald skylark, stay thy flight
One moment, for a nightingale
Floods us with sorrow and delight.
To—morrow thou shalt hoist the sail;
Leave us tonight the nightingale.

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