FRAGMENT XXII.
TWILIGHT.
“The pensive pleasures sweet
Prepare thy shadowy car.”
Collins.
I
There is a mild, a solemn hour,
And oh! how soothing is its pow'r
To smile away Care's sombre low'r!
This hour I love!
It follows last the feath'ry train
That hovers round Time's rapid wain.
'Tis then I rove.
II
'Tis when the day's last beam of light
Sleeps on the rude tow'r's mould'ring height,
With many an age's moss bedight,
The dreary home
Of some sad victim of despair,
Who from the world finds shelter there;
'Tis then I roam.
III
'Tis when the west clouds faintly blush,
And his last vesper sings the thrush,
And soft mists veil gay nature's flush,
And not a ray
From the morn's cloud-embosom'd crest
Silvers the green wave's swelling breast;
'Tis then I stray.
IV
'Tis the soft stilly dawn of night,
When many an elf and fairy sprite
Pursue the glow-worm's furtive light,
Like me fonder
Of that soft, pale, mysterious beam
Which lures wild fancy's wizard dream,
While I wander.
V
Day cannot claim this charming hour,
Nor night subdue it to its power,
Nor sunny smiles, nor gloomy low'r,
Does it betray:
But blandly soothing, sweetly wild,
Soft, silent, stilly, fragrant, mild,
It steals away.
