The walls once worn by passing years,
Now shine through all their dust and tears.
For time itself must bend, must fall,
When beauty leans against the wall.

The roses hush, the breezes sing,
They weave your name on twilight’s wing.
Each sound is soft, each silence true,
A hymn the night composes for you.

The ivy climbs, the dusk turns mild,
It bows before the twilight’s child.
No shadow stands, no silence stays,
Against the light your soul conveys.