Five in the afternoon
* * * * * Let me hear how your voice trembles as you sing the last strains of your song , and I will tell you how great an artist you are . Good night , sweet prince , And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest ! * * * * * July 6th . Five in the afternoon ! And the wind was howling in turret and tree , and all the forest was an organ chant . So I packed up my belongings , and laid my poem in next to my heart -- the last words written : `` It is done ! '' And I went out and stood and gazed at my little home .