In this still hour no sound of discord mars
    The solitude that to the spirit lends
    Its benison; while graciously descends
The tranquil benediction of the stars.

Within her realm of silence Night doth keep
    The troubled world; to weary hands and eyes
    From out the lofty, over-brooding skies
God gives His ever-blessèd boon of sleep.

^__Allen D. Gray.