 | Poems of Paul Hamilton Hayne |  |
XIV.
THE LATTER PEACE.
We have passed the noonday summit,
We have left the noonday heat,
And down the hillside slowly
Descend our weary feet.
Yet the evening airs are balmy,
And the evening shadows sweet.
We have left the noonday heat,
And down the hillside slowly
Descend our weary feet.
Yet the evening airs are balmy,
And the evening shadows sweet.
Our summer's latest roses
Lay withered long ago;
And even the flowers of autumn
Scarce keep their mellowed glow.
Yet a peaceful season woos us
Ere the time of storms and snow.
Lay withered long ago;
And even the flowers of autumn
Scarce keep their mellowed glow.
Yet a peaceful season woos us
Ere the time of storms and snow.
Like the tender twilight weather
When the toil of day is done,
And we feel the bliss of quiet
Our constant hearts have won—
When the vesper planet blushes,
Kissed by the dying sun.
When the toil of day is done,
And we feel the bliss of quiet
Our constant hearts have won—
When the vesper planet blushes,
Kissed by the dying sun.
So falls that tranquil season,
Dew-like, on soul and sight,
Faith's silvery star rise blended
With memory's sunset light,
Wherein life pauses softly
Along the verge of night.
Dew-like, on soul and sight,
Faith's silvery star rise blended
With memory's sunset light,
Wherein life pauses softly
Along the verge of night.
| Poems of Paul Hamilton Hayne | |