Now the toils of day are over, <br />And the sun hath sunk to rest, <br />Seeking, like a fiery lover, <br />The bosom of the blushing west— <br /> <br />The faithful night keeps watch and ward, <br />Raising the moon her silver shield, <br />And summoning the stars to guard <br />The slumbers of my fair Mathilde! <br /> <br />The faithful night! Now all things lie <br />Hid by her mantle dark and dim, <br />In pious hope I hither hie, <br />And humbly chant mine ev'ning hymn. <br /> <br />Thou art my prayer, my saint, my shrine! <br />(For never holy pilgrim kneel'd, <br />Or wept at feet more pure than thine), <br />My virgin love, my sweet Mathilde!<br /><br />William Makepeace Thackeray<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/serenade-15/
