Idles The Night Wind Through The Dreaming Firs, That Waking Murmur Low, As Some Lost Melody Returning Stirs The Love Of Long Ago; And Through The Far, Cool Distance, Zephyr Fanned. The Moon Is Sinking Into Shadow-Land. The Troubled Night-Bird, Calling Plaintively, Wanders On Restless Wing; The Cedars, Chanting Vespers To The Sea, Await Its Answering, That Comes In Wash Of Waves Along The Strand, The While The Moon Slips Into Shadow-Land. O! Soft Responsive Voices Of The Night I Join Your Minstrelsy, And Call Across The Fading Silver Light As Something Calls To Me; I May Not All Your Meaning Understand, But I Have Touched Your Soul In Shadow-Land.