University of Virginia Library

'Tis sweet to walk forth in the Evening time,
When Phantasies august and Dreams sublime
Swell in the heart and kindle through the mind,
And the half o'ershadowed Earth seems left behind,
And that dim veil o'er Nature's features drawn,
Permits new scenes upon the soul to dawn,
Then oft that soul looks tremblingly within,
With inborn horror at its inborn sin.
Oh! could it, like clear streams at Even, lie
And glance back—star by star—the whole rich sky,
But in itself are darkness, clouds, and gloom,
That spread like shadows of some frowning tomb;
And yet at times, at these deep hours serene,
It harmonizes with the harmonious scene;
At times, while darkens round the world without,
It kindles like a rich star brightening out,
A sun-like star, that turns the shadowy Night
To something lovelier than the Day's best light—
That melts to glory—trembles into power—
In Night's mysterious and congenial hour.

It is in Evening's dreamy time and soft
That Spirits to our Spirits seem to waft
Deep messages of love and glorious cheer,
That raise us high above our earthly sphere;
Yet earthly things grow spiritual even
Beneath the twilight-veiled religious Heaven.
Each breeze hath some soft thrilling tale to tell,
Each leaf is as a mystic chronicle—
Then Night flowers 'gin with gentle stealth to blow,
And they too have a language soft and slow,
That sinks into the heart—the heart o'erwrought
By Day with many a quick and busy thought;
And Twilight's deepening now o'er Earth and Sky,
And shineth forth in delicate majesty,
The young clear Morn, like some bright queenly Bride
In argent vesture pure—and pearled pride.
Oft on the starry hosts sublime array
I have gazed up with triumph-touched dismay,
When in the noon of Night their splendours shine
With a deep fulness almost too divine—
With triumph swelling in the silent Soul,
To think that they, which ever glorious roll,
Unharmed by Death and change, were yet arrayed
In all their glory—fashioned, formed, and made
By the same hand that moulded our frail clay,
So soon condemned to ruin and decay,
So liable to accident and wrong,
While glow in changeless pride that deathless throng,
And with dismay o'erclouding the deep mind,
To think what chains to this dull Earth still bind
Earth's mortal children—prisoned—checked—confined—
And exiled—darkly far, alas! how far
From these resplendent realms of Sun and Star.
But in the Evening's sweet and placid hour
Bright thoughts are shed in many a golden shower
Upon the softened Soul—pure thoughts and bright,
That thrill us not with overpowering might,
But with a mastery calm and deep controul
The soothed, and gladdened, and consenting Soul;
Not hurrying thoughts, that, while they elevate,
Oppress the mind—quick—keen—importunate—
But such as win us from the world away,
Yet lull the unquiet pulses feverish play,
And still the restless workings of the brain,
And chase Life's busy cares, the fond and vain,
Till the outwearied Spirit, long distressed,
Yields itself all to peacefulness and rest.