The Poet's Hour

In that quiet stillness when the birds have ceased their song and all is hushed but for the sigh of day's departing,
a time for reflection, for lovers, and for poetry.

The Poet's Hour

When day is done, and clouds are low,
And flowers are honey-dew,
And Hesper's lamp begins to glow
Along the western blue;
And homeward wing the turtle-doves,
Then comes the hour the poet loves.

- George Croly,