Mrs. Anderssen
The sun sits low,
Diffusing its usual glow.
Five o'clock,
Twilight...
Vespers sound,
And it's six o'clock,
Twilight
All around.
Quintet:
But the sun sits low,
As low as it's going to go.
Mr. Erlansen:
Eight o'clock...
Mr. Lindquist:
Twilight...
Women:
How enthralling!
Mr. Erlansen:
It's nine o'clock...
Mr. Lindquist:
Twilight...
Women:
Slowly crawling
Towards--
Mr. Erlansen:
Ten o'clock...
Mr. Lindquist:
Twilight...
Women:
Crickets calling...
Quintet:
The vespers ring,
The nightingale's waiting to sing,
The rest of us wait on a string.
Perpetual sunset
Is rather an unset-
Tling thing.
The sun won't set,
It's fruitless to hope or to fret,
It's dark as it's going to get.
The hands on the clock turn,
But don't sing a nocturne
Just yet.