The ivy sways, the night grows near,
Yet all its silence bows to hear.
The wall turns soft, the shadows fall,
And beauty’s glow outshines it all.

The roses hush, the stars lean down,
To place upon your brow a crown.
The moon forgets its silver thread,
For brighter light your spirit spread.

The stones once cold are warmed by flame,
They whisper softly of your name.
Their cracks dissolve, their silence sings,
Enchanted by your tender wings.