Now let us sing of Mother Night!
Come, thou whose circle is endless flight
She whose body from celestial stars is made,
upon whose breast are souls are laid
Mystery, black as midnight's heaven far,
yet brilliant as the silver star.
Thy realm is the void primordial skies,
light and life in thy hand  lies.

Dreams and soft ease attend thy train
lead drifting sleep to Orphic strain.
Nikta, decked with starry light
Rests deep silence,indwelling  ebon night.
Goddess of phantoms, of shadow plays
whose body divides the sun lit days.
She from whom  all Gods and men were born
She we seek when the veil is torn...

Be present Goddess with mysteries abound
let the dark's wisdom by mortals be found!
 

Buckland, Ray. Buckland's Complete Book of Witchcraft (etc.),
adapted by Deana Smith