 | The Forest Minstrel, and Other Poems |  |
But noon's subduing heat and glare
Have melted to a milder air;
And oh! there comes, so calm and boon,
The eve—the Paradise of June.
Past is the glare—but there is still
A light and glow on dale and hill,
Vivid, yet mild and full of grace,
Shining out like an angel's face.
Freed from the sultry thrall of day,
The glad eye revels far away;
All round is bright—and you may see
Green hill and river, tower and tree,
One wide, fair scene of beauteous rest,
Brilliant and sweet, and calm and blest.
All there is peace, and you may hear
Each soften'd sound distinct and clear:
The wood-gate's clap, the peasant's lay,
The low of herds, the mastiff's bay,
And the rich blackbird's strains, that swell
Each sunset from the neighbouring dell.
Have melted to a milder air;
And oh! there comes, so calm and boon,
The eve—the Paradise of June.
Past is the glare—but there is still
A light and glow on dale and hill,
Vivid, yet mild and full of grace,
Shining out like an angel's face.
Freed from the sultry thrall of day,
The glad eye revels far away;
All round is bright—and you may see
Green hill and river, tower and tree,
One wide, fair scene of beauteous rest,
Brilliant and sweet, and calm and blest.
All there is peace, and you may hear
Each soften'd sound distinct and clear:
The wood-gate's clap, the peasant's lay,
The low of herds, the mastiff's bay,
And the rich blackbird's strains, that swell
Each sunset from the neighbouring dell.
| The Forest Minstrel, and Other Poems | |