| Padraic Colum (1881–1972). Anthology of Irish Verse. 1922. |
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| 143. At the Mid Hour of Night |
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| By Thomas Moore |
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| AT THE mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, I fly the lone vale we loved, when life shone warm in thine eye; | |
| And I think oft, if spirits can steal from the regions of air, | |
| To revisit past scenes of delight, thou wilt come to me there, | |
| And tell me our love is remembered, even in the sky. | |
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| Then I sing the wild song ’twas once such pleasure to hear | 5 |
| When our voices commingling breathed, like one, on the ear; | |
| And, as Echo far off through the vale my sad orison rolls, | |
| I think, oh, my love! ’tis thy voice from the Kingdom of Souls, | |
| Faintly answering still the notes that once were so dear. | |
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