"But bending low, I whisper only this:
'Love, it is night.'"
—HARRY THURSTON PECK.
Love, it is night. The orb of day
Has gone to hit the cosmic hay.
Nocturnal voices now we hear.
Come, heart's delight, the hour is near
When Passion's mandate we obey.
I would not, sweet, the fact convey
In any crude and obvious way:
I merely whisper in your ear—
"Love, it is night!"
Candor compels me, pet, to say
That years my fading charms betray.
Tho' Love be blind, I grant it's clear
I'm no Apollo Belvedere.
But after dark all cats are gray.
Love, it is night!