The long day closes

Arthur Sullivan · text Henry Fothergill Chorley

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Vers 1
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 forever. 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, quivers lowly. Go to the dreamless bed Where grief reposes, Thy book of toil is read, The long day closes; Go to the dreamless bed Where grief reposes, Thy book of toil is read, Thy book of toil is read, Go to the dreamless bed, The long day closes.

Fri att sjunga: Arthur Sullivan dog 1900 och Henry Fothergill Chorley dog 1872.