Hour Of Not Quite Rain Lyrics - Buffalo Springfield

In the hour of not quite rain 

When the fog was fingertip high 

The moon hung suspended 

In a singular sky 

Deeply and beyond seeing 

Not wishing to intrude 

Bathed in its own reflection 

The water mirrored the moon 

The tumbling birds have now sobered 

From the leaves of their nursery 

Like shadowy, quiet children 

Watching sleepily