The sunrise wakes the lark to sing,

The moonrise wakes the nightingale.

Come darkness, moonrise, every thing

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 to-night the nightingale.