In the silence of the night we stroll, Beneath the vast celestial dome; For in the woodlands, spirit whole, We seek our wandering home.

And in the perfumed air that wafts, The nightingale sings low; For all the moments lull like draughts, Drenched in the moon’s soft glow.

O, Nature, thou art pure delight, Forever in this time most dear; In the shadows of the whispering night, Let all our fears disappear.

• Alfred Lord Tennyson