The Long Day Closes - Tenebrae, Arthur Sullivan, Gabriel Crouch

No star is o’er the lake

Its pale watch keeping

The moon is half awake

Through gray mist creeping

The last red leaves fall round

The porch of roses

The clock hath ceased to sound

The long day closes

Sit by the silent hearth

In calm endeavour

To count the sounds of mirth

Now dumb for ever

Heed not how hope believes

And fate disposes:

Shadow is round the eaves

The long day closes

The lighted windows dim

Are fading slowly

The fire that was so trim

Now quivers lowly

Go to the dreamless bed

Where grief reposes;

Thy book of toil is read

The long day closes