 | The American common-place book of poetry |  |
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Sabbath Evening Twilight.—Anonymous
Delightful hour of sweet repose,
Of hallowed thoughts, of love, of prayer!
I love thy deep and tranquil close,
For all the Sabbath day is there.
Each pure desire, each high request
That burned before the temple shrine,—
The hopes, the fears, that moved the breast,—
All live again in light like thine.
Of hallowed thoughts, of love, of prayer!
I love thy deep and tranquil close,
For all the Sabbath day is there.
Each pure desire, each high request
That burned before the temple shrine,—
The hopes, the fears, that moved the breast,—
All live again in light like thine.
I love thee for the fervid glow
Thou shed'st around the closing day,—
Those golden fires, those wreaths of snow,
That light and pave his glorious way!
Through them, I've sometimes thought, the eye
May pierce the unmeasured deeps of space,
And track the course where spirits fly,
On viewless wings, to realms of bliss.
Thou shed'st around the closing day,—
Those golden fires, those wreaths of snow,
That light and pave his glorious way!
Through them, I've sometimes thought, the eye
May pierce the unmeasured deeps of space,
And track the course where spirits fly,
On viewless wings, to realms of bliss.
I love thee for the unbroken calm,
That slumbers on this fading scene,
And throws its kind and soothing charm
O'er “all the little world within.”
It trances every roving thought,
Yet sets the soaring fancy free,—
Shuts from the soul the present out,
That all is musing memory.
That slumbers on this fading scene,
And throws its kind and soothing charm
O'er “all the little world within.”
It trances every roving thought,
Yet sets the soaring fancy free,—
Shuts from the soul the present out,
That all is musing memory.
I love those joyous memories,
That rush, with thee, upon the soul,—
Those deep, unuttered symphonies,
That o'er the spell-bound spirit roll.
All the bright scenes of love and youth
Revive, as if they had not fled;
And Fancy clothes with seeming truth
The forms she rescues from the dead.
That rush, with thee, upon the soul,—
Those deep, unuttered symphonies,
That o'er the spell-bound spirit roll.
All the bright scenes of love and youth
Revive, as if they had not fled;
And Fancy clothes with seeming truth
The forms she rescues from the dead.
Yet holier is thy peaceful close,
For vows love left recorded there;—
This is the noiseless hour we chose
To consecrate to mutual prayer.
'Twas when misfortune's fearful cloud
Was gathering o'er the brow of heaven,
Ere yet despair's eternal shroud
Wrapped every vision hope had given.
For vows love left recorded there;—
This is the noiseless hour we chose
To consecrate to mutual prayer.
'Twas when misfortune's fearful cloud
Was gathering o'er the brow of heaven,
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Wrapped every vision hope had given.
When these deep purpling shades came down,
In softened tints, upon the hills,
We swore, that, whether fate should crown
Our future course with joys or ills,—
Whether safe moored in love's retreat,
Or severed wide by mount and sea,—
This hour, in spirit, we would meet,
And urge to Heaven our mutual plea.
In softened tints, upon the hills,
We swore, that, whether fate should crown
Our future course with joys or ills,—
Whether safe moored in love's retreat,
Or severed wide by mount and sea,—
This hour, in spirit, we would meet,
And urge to Heaven our mutual plea.
[OMITTED]
O, tell me if this hallowed hour
Still finds thee constant at our shrine,
Still witnesses thy fervent prayer
Ascending warm and true with mine!
Faithful through every change of wo,
My heart still flies to meet thee there:
'Twould soothe this weary heart to know
That thine responded every prayer.
Still finds thee constant at our shrine,
Still witnesses thy fervent prayer
Ascending warm and true with mine!
Faithful through every change of wo,
My heart still flies to meet thee there:
'Twould soothe this weary heart to know
That thine responded every prayer.
| The American common-place book of poetry | |