 | Poems |  |
119
HESPERUS.
The sun has sunk within the western glow,
The flush is fading from the evening sky,
A single star sits on the welkin's brow—
'Tis Hesperus looks down with golden eye.
Now sleeps the lark that in its evening flight
Dropt wild melodious notes from rosy skies;
One wakeful voice alone wails through the night—
It is the homeless wind that raves and sighs.
The flush is fading from the evening sky,
A single star sits on the welkin's brow—
'Tis Hesperus looks down with golden eye.
Now sleeps the lark that in its evening flight
Dropt wild melodious notes from rosy skies;
One wakeful voice alone wails through the night—
It is the homeless wind that raves and sighs.
Roam, restless thing, around the dusky hill
Where bird and beast are slumbering, flower and tree;
No evening hour that bids the world be still
Comes motherly to calm and comfort thee.
Even such am I, that find no rest at all,
From home and fireside comforts wandered far,
Whose only joy is, when the shadows fall,
To gaze regretful on yon western star.
Where bird and beast are slumbering, flower and tree;
No evening hour that bids the world be still
Comes motherly to calm and comfort thee.
Even such am I, that find no rest at all,
From home and fireside comforts wandered far,
Whose only joy is, when the shadows fall,
To gaze regretful on yon western star.
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