University of Virginia Library

'Tis Sunset!—time of dreamy peace,
When work-day sounds begin to cease:
'T is Sunset!—many a winged isle,
And wandering mount, and changeful pile
Of cloud steals daylight's lingering smile,
And girt with momentary splendour,—
(Which soon—too soon they must surrender,)
Dazzles the gazer's lifted eye,
While like one Rainbow glows the sky!

'T is Sunset;—'t is the witching hour,
When fair Imagination's power
Reigns o'er the rapt elysiumed soul
With sweet compulsion—bright controul.
Who can behold that glorious sky,
Nor yield to feelings pure and high?
Who can behold that cloud-strewn field,
With all the splendours there revealed?
Who can behold each winged isle,
Each wandering mount, each changeful pile,
Nor shape ten thousand dreams the while?—
Revelling in fantastic vein,
'Mid wild Enchantment's rich domain,
Till to the Music of the Mind,
Clearly and brilliantly defined,
A glorious—glorious city rise,
Like that which antique histories
Pronounce, uprose, with glittering throng
Of towers and spires, to Orpheus' song!
Of gold, and purple, and vermilion,
Shines many a rich and rare pavilion,
And bastion there,—and battlement
Of ruby seem, with topaz blent;
And pyramid and pinnacle,
Rosy as lip of Indian shell,
Mingle with silvery-shining wall,—
And hold the eye in charmēd thrall—
How glorious is the illusion all!—
Surely not half so splendid shone
Balbec of old—nor Babylon!

Oh! oft on Cloudland's tracts I gaze,
Wildered with rapture and amaze;
And gaze and muse—and muse and ponder
On all the endless glories yonder,
Until I dream a world is there—
A thousand worlds supremely fair,
With countless habitants in each,
Too rare and bright for thought to reach,—
Till all the cloud-emblazoned sky
One burning crimson galaxy
Appears—of proud creations bright,—
Made of Air, Colour, Fire, and Light!
Away—away!—wild thoughts and high,
Playing like Lightnings in the sky!
Ah! as I wandering, walk apart,
Communing with my own full heart,
Resistlessly mine eye is won,
Yon hamlet-fold to gaze upon!—
Those tranquil Peasant-homesteads low,
That shine not in the Sunset's glow;
Those Shepherd-sheilings, gray and still,
Beneath the darkly-covering hill:
At once they win my mind away
From all the pomps of dying day!
At once my journeying thoughts lead back
To a more sweet, familiar track!—
Oh! lovely, lowly shepherd sheilings,
The harmony of kindred feelings
Your quiet aspect can call forth,
And bring pure dreams of tenderest worth,
And wild and wayward fancies chase,—
To wake—far sweeter in their place.
Yes! humble dwellings, peasant-homes,
Ye move me more than mightiest domes;
While feelings old as heaven and earth,
Of soundless source and bournless birth,
Gathering themselves together—start,
And make a haven of my heart!
Welcome! ye ancient feelings here,
Whether ye prompt a smile or tear:
Welcome, Old Feelings! welcome still,
From all the weight, the stain, the chill
Ye 've had to endure through changeful time,
As ye were linked with shame and crime,—
Repulsed from myriad human breasts,
Where ye had been as angel-guests;
Exorcised—e'en as evil things—
Ye—with heaven's dews upon your wings—
Banished—like dark and treacherous foes;—
Denounced, as source of heaviest woes;
Stifled in countless human hearts,
Whose feelings are refined to arts,
While cramped existence grows a task,
The very countenance a mask;
And speech seems given but to conceal
All that they feel—and do not feel!
'Stead of to echo and reveal;
A ready weapon that they wield
With craft and skill, as bar and shield!

Still—still your wrongs are well redressed,
In many a warm devoted breast,
Wherein for ever ye abide,
With virtue and with truth allied;
Unstained in life—unchanged in death—
Expiring with the expiring breath!
Welcome! Old Feelings, to my soul,
Possess and penetrate the whole;
Or print the smile—or prompt the tear,—
Ever ye 're welcome and ye 're dear!
Old—old ye are as Heaven and Earth,
Of immemorial spring and birth;
And you have yet a race to run,
Farther than Planet hath, or Sun:
And you have yet, age after age,
For your unbounded heritage!

Welcome! Old Feelings, to my soul,
Suffuse and sanctify the whole!
With home and household thoughts conjoined,
And all harmoniously entwined
With meditations of the mind!—
Affection!—gentlest—loveliest—chief,—
Pale Pity, 'trothed to paler Grief!
Sympathy—whose unbounded might
Doth all pervade—doth all unite!
Reverence, and Confidence, and Zeal,
And all the heart was made to feel—
Welcome, ye ancient Feelings, here!
Make my whole soul your shrine and sphere!