 | Poems |  |
30
EVENING.
(A CLOSE VIEW.)
Star-shadows dot our tiny lake,
And, sparkling in between
The dusky fringe the larches make,
Soft stars themselves are seen;
Our boat and we, not half awake,
Go dreaming down the pond,
Whilst slowly calls the Rail, “Crake-crake,”
From meadow-flats beyond.
And, sparkling in between
The dusky fringe the larches make,
Soft stars themselves are seen;
Our boat and we, not half awake,
Go dreaming down the pond,
Whilst slowly calls the Rail, “Crake-crake,”
From meadow-flats beyond.
The happy, circling, bounded view
Embraces us with home;
But up, through heaven's star-budding blue,
Our souls are free to roam;
Whence for this veil of scented dew
That makes the earth so sweet,
A touch of astral brightness too,
A peace—that is complete.
Embraces us with home;
But up, through heaven's star-budding blue,
Our souls are free to roam;
Whence for this veil of scented dew
That makes the earth so sweet,
A touch of astral brightness too,
A peace—that is complete.
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