University of Virginia Library

Sweet is the rose-flush melting thro' the blue
At early evening—first and tenderest hue
Of that bright brood that in the dazzling deeps
Of utter light is born, and fluttering creeps
Into a bolder being, till its nest
Warms to the cluster'd ripeness of the West:
Sweet is the mellow coolness underived
That swims about the Earth ere she hath hived
Her scatter'd fragrance for the night, and fills
The little sleepy glens between the hills,
And lingers by all whispering brooks unseen,
And dreams o'er grey-blue downs, that towards it lean
So wooingly aslope; and alway lends
Its solemn hush to every heart that blends
With Nature's in true love,—what time the grand
Wide reach of throbbing blue on every hand
Deepens and darkens upward endlessly
Thro' zones of lessening stars, and when they die
I' the unimagin'd depths, still, onward driven
Into the soul of space, soars purpling up to heaven:
Sweet is the chasten'd amber dusk that lies,
With silence in its bosom, o'er the eyes
Of Nature, when her vivid flush of praise
Hath ceased with sunset; thickening thro' the blaze
Dim hues of prayer her shadow'd features steep
Unfelt, and stilly lead her down toward sleep
Dew-benison'd of Heaven, wherein clear streams
Of fostering moonlight hallow all her dreams:
Sweet is the first faint rising of a star
Between the dying sunlight and the far
Thick-dazzled blue beyond; in all the blind
Unconscious dimness round, a one defined
Sure spot for Thought to grasp, and gazing watch
It brighten, till all darken'd glories catch
Outline and substance from the chaos-gloom
Again, and slowly, singly disentomb
And concentrate their special selves, and stand
In individual clearness—a fair band
Of crowded loveliness, not fused, nor quite
Distinct and edged with sharp unquivering light,
But 'mid soft breadths of holy vagueness borne
Into the bosom of the expectant Morn:—
These things, O tender placid nun, all these
For thy calm eyes make choicest similes;
But chiefly this—for how serenely sweet
The lifting of thine eyelids when we meet
(If we should meet again as erst)—their slow
And mute upraising, till the artless glow
Dawns of soft-shaded blue, brimm'd full and clear
With some rich fluid, that had seemed a tear
But that thy lips belie it (Ah not now,
Forgive me!)—with no laughing joy, for thou
Dost seldom bask in the wild glare of mirth,—
But with a trembling grace, a faint half-birth,
A nameless presence, born i' the depths of love
And as its home etherial, which doth move
And blindly skim about thy lips awhile,
Nor deign to grow incarnate in a smile!

Oh that no darker, rainier clouds did swim
Over the sunset blue, and make it dim
With alien gloom! Oh that no winds uncouth
Did sweep her unborn kisses from the mouth
Of brooding Eve, which for the eager Earth
Were ripening! That no tints of coarser birth
Darken'd the crystal twilight, nor the stars
Did rise unseen, or let the cold grey bars
Of weltering mist their sweetest looks absorb!
Oh that thine eyes of light did ceaseless orb
In the moist coolness of their own calm spheres,
Nor ever feel the scorching glow of tears!