Classic Poem

The sun will set behind the hill, then shall Love come on tip-toe, then shall Love come on tip-toe to the Loneliness that sits upon a golden stone and cries in solitude.
The sun will set behind the hill, then shall the golden peacock come flying, then shall the golden peacock come flying, and take us all along thither, thither where yearnings will impel.
The sun will set behind the hill, then shall the night come and sing lullaby, then shall the night come and sing lullaby over the eyes that are already closing to sleep in eternal rest.