Here you will find thePoemA Nocturneof poet Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
The Moon has gone to her rest, A full hour ago. The Pleiads have found a nest In the waves below. Slow, the Hours one by one In Midnight's footsteps creep. Lovers who lie alone Soon wake to weep. Slow--footed tortoise Hours, will ye not hasten on, Till from his prison In the golden East A new day shall have risen, And the last stars be gone, Like guests belated from a bridal feast? When the long night is done Then shall ye sleep.
