midnight
I raised the curtain so as to let in the cool air . The links were bathed in a flood of moonlight . Half a mile away were Bishop 's cornfields in which the dreamland fiends had tortured me . It was not yet midnight , and down the lane I made out the forms of Chilvers , Marshall , Lawson , and other nighthawks . Chilvers was singing , the others coming in the chorus of the last line , drawing it out to the full length and strength of a parody of the old negro song : `` Where , oh where are the long , long drivers ? Where , oh where are the long , long drivers ? ; Where , oh where are the long , long drivers ?