And all that has passed before us, this day, this rain
And the sunshine and the green, green meadow
Are swallowed in the night that comes softly,
Silent and dear and painful;
When the memories of those times and the echoes of that laughter
Throb soundlessly beneath the symphony of crickets
And the boom of the frogs in the marsh.
While we wait with wistful ears for a voice
That comes from beyond those thousand deep-set stars
To sing over us in the twilight of our hearts.