At that hour when all things have repose
O lonely watcher of the skies
Do you hear the night wind
and the sighs
Of harps playing unto Love to unclose
The pale gates of sunrise
When all things repose do you alone
Awake to hear the sweet harps play
To Love before him on his way,
And the night wind answering in antiphon
Till night is overgone?
Play on, invisible harps, unto Love,
Whose way in heaven is aglow
At that hour when soft lights come and go,
Soft sweet music in the air above
And in the earth below.
- James Joyce, Chamber Music.
Joyce described this poem as a prelude.