 | The Poetical Works of David Gray |  |
132
Evening.
The evening now is still and calm,As if sad Eloïsa's soul
Had breathed a spiritual balm
Throughout the softened whole.
Within the azure of the sky
There shineth not a single star;
But in a soft serenity
The Crescent cometh from afar.
In darker lines the firs that shade
The house of Merkland round and round,
133
No liquid notes resound:
I heard the birds this live-long day,
In sweet unwrinkled blending,
As if this merry month of May
Should never have an ending.
O could I utter thoughts that rise,
O could I sing the tender
Softness of the summer skies,
In all their virgin splendour!
O crescent Moon, like pearlëd bark
To ferry souls to glory;
O silent deepening of the dark
O'er vale and promontory!
Alas, that I should live, and be
A churl in soul, while slowly
God makes the solemn eve, and breathes
A calm thro' hearts unholy!
| The Poetical Works of David Gray | |