two o’clock
When shall the modern man , strong , scientifically schooled , find a temple for the sacred music , the anthem of eternity in his soul ? The sun rose up from behind a distant hill-crest , scattering gold over the million spires of the pine-forest . Peer bent forward , with red-gleaming dewdrops on his hand and his white sleeve , and patted the neck of his restless beast . It was two o'clock . The fires of morning were lit in the clouds and in all the waters over the earth . The dew in the meadows and the pearls on the wings of butterflies began to glisten . `` Now then , Bijou !