University of Virginia Library


61

THE HOUR.

Soft the purple night is falling
Over moor and dell.
Whispered prayers of love recalling,
Chants the evening bell.
Cool the hour when dear ones hieing
Seek a well-known spot,
There to one another sighing
Of they know not what.
But the wood-thrush sighs and knows it
Where the glow-worms peep,
And the drowsy west wind blows it
Where the marsh buds sleep.
There on tiptoe moonlight listens
To the cooing dove;
There the silent dew-drop glistens
For my waiting love.