Lo, at midnight clouds are slowly passing,

rosy and lustrous,

O'er the spacious heav'ns

with loveliness laden.

From the boundless deep

the moon arises wondrous

All the birds have ceased

their sad and mournful complaining;

Now appears on the sea

in a silver reflection

The light of the moon softly

waking the soul and constraining

Hearts to cruel tears

and bitter dejection.

Lo, at midnight clouds are slowly passing,

rosy and lustrous,

O'er the spacious heav'ns

dreamily wondrous.

--Ruth V. Correa