The roses hush, the breezes slow,
They part to let your beauty show.
The dark itself forgets its name,
And burns beneath your fleeting flame.

The ivy sways, the stones grow mild,
They bend to greet the twilight’s child.
The night forgets its heavy tone,
And crowns your light as all its own.

The roses hush, their colors fade,
Beside the glow your soul has made.
The stars lean close, the moon turns shy,
And hides her silver when you’re nigh.