The night’s unquiet psalm 
That wanders all too trembling up, and quivers as 
a flower. 
 
The wise man opens wide 
His casement, as a bride 
Flings her bright arms to meet her spouse home-
ward who hasteneth ; 
He trims his lamp, and brings 
The books of many kings 
To spread their holy wings 
About his head, and sing to him the secret ways 
of death. 
 
His eyes are fixed, he sees 
Men dimly, like to trees 
Walking, and guesses they must be the angels of 
the Lord ; 
His hand is strong to hold 
The talent of fine gold, 
The wand so clean and cold ; 
His altar has a lamp divine, his girdle has a 
sword. 
 
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