 | The Legend of the Golden Prayers and other poems |  |
197
MUSIC AT NIGHT.
Still lingers eve with fond delay,
Though night has claim'd yon lovely shore,
And sends from far her shadow grey,
Pale twilight stealing on before.
Though night has claim'd yon lovely shore,
And sends from far her shadow grey,
Pale twilight stealing on before.
And yonder waves of varying sheen,
The distant headland's line of blue,
The tall red cliffs, the soft sea-green,
Are mingling in one misty hue.
The distant headland's line of blue,
The tall red cliffs, the soft sea-green,
Are mingling in one misty hue.
'Tis past—that gleam of crimson light,
The last faint blush of lingering day;
Now leaning from her stately height
The silver moon looks on the bay.
The last faint blush of lingering day;
Now leaning from her stately height
The silver moon looks on the bay.
And restless waves, that loved to chide,
And fling their foam-like showers of snow,
Calm as a lake without a tide,
Lie still and quiver in her glow.
And fling their foam-like showers of snow,
Calm as a lake without a tide,
Lie still and quiver in her glow.
198
The clouds of grief have dimm'd his eye,
The waves of woe have swell'd his breast;
What pure pale planet draweth nigh
Whose look can soothe them all to rest?
The waves of woe have swell'd his breast;
What pure pale planet draweth nigh
Whose look can soothe them all to rest?
Come, fairer than yon crescent moon;
Come, touch the tone he loves so well;
And grief and care shall slumber soon,
And sorrow own the soothing spell.
Come, touch the tone he loves so well;
And grief and care shall slumber soon,
And sorrow own the soothing spell.
Come with thy calm and quiet grace,
Thy meek, soft smile and silver tone,
The rose-tints deepening on thy face,
And charm as thou canst charm alone.
Thy meek, soft smile and silver tone,
The rose-tints deepening on thy face,
And charm as thou canst charm alone.
There's not a wave on yon wide sea
But thrills to that pure power above,
Nor heart-string, weary though it be,
But trembles to the touch of love.
But thrills to that pure power above,
Nor heart-string, weary though it be,
But trembles to the touch of love.
From Nature's beauteous outward things
What gleams of hidden life we win!
For still the world without us flings
Strong shadows of the world within.
What gleams of hidden life we win!
For still the world without us flings
Strong shadows of the world within.
199
Sweet scene! we shall not love thee less
Because thy pulses, wild and free,
With our home-dream of happiness
This hour have thrill'd in harmony.
Because thy pulses, wild and free,
With our home-dream of happiness
This hour have thrill'd in harmony.
Rather, a thousand-fold more fair,
Thy sea, thy shore, fresh charms shall borrow,
For they have heard the tender air
She sang to-night to soothe his sorrow.
Thy sea, thy shore, fresh charms shall borrow,
For they have heard the tender air
She sang to-night to soothe his sorrow.
Torquay, 1850.
| The Legend of the Golden Prayers and other poems | |