The Moon has set; the Stars are out, The Winds breathe soft, the Night is still. The last faint light of day’s gone out, And Earth is calm as if on hill.

I wander’d forth to see the Night, The Dew was hanging on the grass, The glow-worm’s light was cold and bright, And the clear Sky was dark as glass.

Cool were the breezes on my cheek, And few the sounds that met my Ear, Save toads and frogs that loud did squeak, And whispers from the trees so near.

The nightingale sang soft and clear, Her tender notes rang through the grove, While from the hedges, far and near, The echoes wove a web of love.

• John Clare