 | Lyrical and other poems |  |
108
A SCENE.
It is a night of mist and cloud,But yet the moon appears,
Now bursting through the murky shroud,
Like beauty seen in tears.
A glory marks her rising track,
Where fleecy vestments glide;
While in the distance frowning black,
Night's darker mists abide!
A doubtful sky, a ray and shade,
A brightness and a storm is seen;
In dubious contest, each array'd,
In all its characters and mien.
The moon with clear pellucid brow,
In smiles glides o'er the fleecy space;
The cloud, what eye that sees it now,
But finds new terrors in its face!
I love to watch the doubtful strife,
To feel the sweet and soothing breeze
That wakes the tempest into life,
And shakes the dull and yellow trees.
On such a scene, in such a night,
My heart delighted loves to dwell,
For in these hours there is a light,
A general mystery and spell.
Oh! who in one eternal sun
Can find a balm, the heart to cheer?
Give me the mist, the mountain dun,
The smiling moon, and evening's tear.
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