The night whispers
Things the stars told them
Lines of truth to sound like ink
And stolen murmers, he didn't think
That, for all their wisdom, stars
Have wild mischief in their hearts
And oh, the things they make you dream
But still, all things I'm glad I've seen
But night soon grows too weary and old
And the stars fade in shining gold
Before night can tell me what he's told
From the stars who live so silver-bright
And so good morning, and goodnight