Not till the sun, that brings to birth br The myriad marvels of the earth br And bids us look with wandering eyes br On all that here about us lies, br Has gone behind the hill, br Do you, O peaceful evening star, br Gaze on the dusk in which we are br And draw the heart of hope and love br To infinite deep on deep above br And bid our care be still. br br All glorious pleasures of the day, br When every sense may have its way br And thought may touch the tiniest fact br And gauge the motive and the act br And measure our delight, br Depart, and leave us to the quest br Of quiet solitude and rest br And knowledge that the plotting brain br With all its science cannot gain br But from the soul of Night.