The moon poured silver on the fields,
And upon the restless Lark;
Mystic cloudlets chased the stars,
And frost slept on the bark.
Angels are born on nights like this,
Beneath the watchful moon;
And vanish with the breaking day,
Before the songbirds croon.
They tend the sleepless, human heart,
Their wings dry up our tears,
They know our thoughts before the dawn,
Our thoughts, our hopes, our fears.
So in the early morning hours,
With eyes so thoughtfully wide,
Don't feel alone at the window pane,
An angel is close by your side.