’T is Night; all the Sirens are silent,
              All the Vultures asleep;
And the Horns of the Tempest are stirring
              Under the Deep;
’T is Night; all the snow-burdened Mountains
              Dream of the Sea,
And down in the Wadi the River
              Is calling to me.

’T is Night; all the Caves of the Spirit
              Shake with desire,
And the Orient Heaven’s essaying
              Its lances of fire;
They hear, in the stillness that covers
              The land and the sea,
The River, in the heart of the Wadi,
              Calling to me.

’T is Night, but a night of great joyance,
              A night of unrest; —
The night of the birth of the Spirit
              Of the East and the West;
And the Caves and the Mountains are dancing
              On the Foam of the Sea,
For the River inundant is calling,
              Calling to me.

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