
A lady comes at eventide,
On clouds through the countryside.
You cannot stop her, no one has tried.
Her name is night, the day has died.
She is the nocturnal shadow tide.
Her veil behind her souring, glides.
It spreads the night into the skies.
With the stars in sight, the day has died.
In pure silence she swiftly strides.
Across the moonlit forest floor she flies.
You cannot stop her, no one has tried.
Her name is night, the day has died.