The roses hush, the night bows low,
It trembles just to see you glow.
The winds retreat, the heavens stay,
To fold your flame in soft array.

The ivy climbs, the world grows kind,
It bows before your radiant mind.
The dusk forgets its ancient call,
And beauty rises over all.

The stones once cold now softly gleam,
They echo back your tender dream.
Their silence hums, their shadows flee,
Awakened by your memory.