 | The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") |  |
561
TWILIGHT.
In Summer even,
When day is done,
And crimson curtains
Obscure the sun,
The many voices
Of night begin,
With notes discordant
And tremulous din;
But through them faintly
The quick ear hears
A strain of music
From former years.
When day is done,
And crimson curtains
Obscure the sun,
The many voices
Of night begin,
With notes discordant
And tremulous din;
But through them faintly
The quick ear hears
A strain of music
From former years.
My guardian spirit,
On noiseless wings,
Comes to my chamber
And sweetly sings.
He sings of feelings
That long have gone,
Of love and fondness
At manhood's dawn;
The words repeating
That once I said,
When she was living
Who now is dead.
On noiseless wings,
Comes to my chamber
And sweetly sings.
He sings of feelings
That long have gone,
Of love and fondness
At manhood's dawn;
The words repeating
That once I said,
When she was living
Who now is dead.
From years long faded,
Through woe and wrack,
The time long-buried
Comes sudden back,
When all was colored
With rosy hue—
Each man trustworthy,
Each woman true;
When Hope was urging
Her witching schemes,
The days romances,
The nights sweet dreams.
Through woe and wrack,
The time long-buried
Comes sudden back,
562
With rosy hue—
Each man trustworthy,
Each woman true;
When Hope was urging
Her witching schemes,
The days romances,
The nights sweet dreams.
I hear the breezes
From coppiced hills;
I hear the murmurs
Of pebbled rills;
I hear the rustling
Of birchen trees;
I hear the droning
Of wandering bees;
I hear the sighing
Of fir and pine;
I hear the lowing
Of plodding kine.
From coppiced hills;
I hear the murmurs
Of pebbled rills;
I hear the rustling
Of birchen trees;
I hear the droning
Of wandering bees;
I hear the sighing
Of fir and pine;
I hear the lowing
Of plodding kine.
My lost, sweet Alice,
The young and fair,
Once more is standing
Beside my chair.
I feel her fingers
My temples press—
A soft, low whisper,
A fond caress.
I turn to clasp her,
As once before—
Ah! white-haired dreamer!
No more! no more!
The young and fair,
Once more is standing
Beside my chair.
I feel her fingers
My temples press—
A soft, low whisper,
A fond caress.
I turn to clasp her,
As once before—
Ah! white-haired dreamer!
No more! no more!
563
For now the twilight
Away has passed,
And deeper darkness
Is gathering fast.
The sounds that thrilled me
Are heard no more,
And barren silence
Falls down and o'er.
My guardian spirit
No longer sings;
His harp has broken
Its silver strings.
Away has passed,
And deeper darkness
Is gathering fast.
The sounds that thrilled me
Are heard no more,
And barren silence
Falls down and o'er.
My guardian spirit
No longer sings;
His harp has broken
Its silver strings.
| The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") | |