University of Virginia Library

It was a silent and a lovely Time,
Earth, Air, and Sky—steeped in a calm sublime,
Appeared to lie as some vast Picture lies—
Like their own Images in lifeless guise,
Yet in that Stillness void of stir and strife—
In sooth there was Intensity of Life!
Not such as lightly to the Surface springs,
But such as dwells in the deep Heart of Things—
Full—fervent—wond'rous—silent—unrevealed,
And yet not chained, or weakened, or concealed—
But only to be felt and understood
By one exalted to a rapturous mood,
Then is such Silence loftiest Eloquence,
And Revelation glorious and intense
Such deep concentered Stillness! then we know
And feel a Life which through our own doth flow—
A Life not such as on the surface plays
E'en like the far-diverging scattered rays—
But like the Sun's deep quenchless heart of flame,
That ever burns—full, perfect, and the same—
This is the Life that strong, deep, mighty, lone,
Flows keen through ours—Ah! is it not our own—
Our own Existence, that released from thrall,
O'erflows the Universe—and quickens all?

Such Beauteous Moments—Beauteous Thoughts awake
And from the Soul its Mortal burthen take—
Then Visions are vouchsafed to watchful Eyes—
Deep Hearts thrill with mysterious Ecstacies!
In the declining Twilight's shadowy hour
There is a Truth—a Beauty and a Power—
There is a solemnizing Influence deep,
That wakes the Heart—yet lulls its Cares to Sleep!
Then 'tis the Soul becomes a Spirit indeed!—
And seems to put aside its Earthly weed,
And shine out in its own sublime array,
The Glory and the Brightness of the Day!
Beyond our clouded Destinies we climb—
There is such Might in the still Twilight Time.
Yea! Mighty Soul!—then free and strong thou art,
And quick to feel art thou—oh! fervent Heart!
From heart and Soul are drawn, in that fine hour,
Long-hidden feelings, full of truth and power—
Press'd like the juice from ripe fruits of the Vine,
From out the Soul is Inspiration's Wine!—
The wine of rich Emotions strong and clear,
Intense and pure as Love's first pearly tear,
That sparkling living Wine—a spring unspent—
In no frail Earthly Vessel pour'd and pent!—
There is a solemnizing influence sweet,
In Twilight's lovely hour—so fair and fleet—
Then Fairy-treasures to the mind are given,
And soothed is the opened Heart—long bruised and riven;
And Fairy-dews then quench its fevered thirst,
And calm the doubts and fears it fondly nursed.
Oh! no such power is in that radiant Time—
The glowing hour of rich and rosy Prime,
When wakes the World-rejoicing Lord of Light,
To walk in all the rapture of his Might!
What time the Lark mounts fearlessly on high,
To flood the Air with ringing Melody,
And clearly tunes his ever-grateful song,
Whose living lightnings leap the skies along,
(Keen Music-lightnings piercing heart and sense,
Long-flashing—and far-spreading and intense;
Arrows of silver sound—o'erpowering sound,
That but with Ecstacy of Wonder wound!)
That Music of the Monarch-sun which seems
Brought forth from that veiled source which prompts his beams,
As though the Harmony and Light were one—
Together issuing from his burning throne!
Oh! Twilight's hour is still a mightier hour
Of deeper influence and of finer power!—
Then, wond'rous Visitants around us come
That surely never owned a Mortal Home,
Fair as the Moon's young Majesty serene,
Throned amongst Purple glooms—a radiant Queen—
So beautiful—so exquisite—so bright,
With such deep looks of never-fading Light,
That we might almost think from Worlds above
Those Heavenly Spirits of undying Love,
The matchless Seraphs—first and fairest—came
To kindle Earth with their own Holy Flame—
They whom no glorious Spirits can excel,
Of all who in the Eternal Mansions dwell—
The Seraphs—whose divine and deathless eyes
Have evermore—Oh, wiser than the wise!—
Streamed with a Fire of Adorations pure—
With Love that hath endured and shall endure;
The Highest of the Heavenly Nations bright—
The purest of the perfect Sons of Light!
Oh! do these haunts our Hearts to quicken there
Deep Feelings such as they supremely share?—
Till spiritualized our thrill'd Hearts grow,
And our Imaginations—as they flow
Through all Creations—till most brightly shed
Around our Light—so dark—our Life so dead,
A clear, transparent and transcendant glow—
A glorious Sense of Being here below
Seems then to be!—and o'er ourselves we are raised,
Because we have adored, and loved, and praised!
Then o'er the ample tablet of the Mind
Ten thousand forms of Beauty are designed,
For ever there in lovely might to reign—
Stamped softly, yet for ever to remain—
As brightly traceable—and so our Thought
For after times—with rich delight is fraught,
And never wholly parts with all its gains,
In such deep moments when 'tis freed from chains—
When o'er our clouded Destinies we climb,
Such Power there is in thee—sweet Twilight time.