Ah, nothing is too late

Stars of the summer night! Far in yon azure deeps, Hide, hide your golden light! She sleeps! My lady sleeps!

She floats upon the river of his thoughts.

They are dead; but they live in each Patriot's breast, And their names are engraven on honor's bright crest.

Music is the universal language of mankind — poetry their universal pastime and delight.

Dreams of the summer night! Tell her, her lover keeps Watch! while in slumbers light She sleeps.

Never here, forever there, Where all parting, pain, and care, And death, and time shall disappear,— Forever there, but never here! The horologe of Eternity Sayeth this incessantly,—