University of Virginia Library

AN EVENING LANDSCAPE

The heavy thunderous clouds trail through the sky
With shattered edges, and a smoking shower,
That sends the labourer from the open field
To shed or barn, spins in the curling dust
And passes, drawing forth wide freshening smells
From holt and orchard; while the sun, blood-red,
Sinks in the wet horizon, through long rifts
Of cold, blue cloud and hazy woods, to rest.
Cuckoo to cuckoo calls from field to field,
And half-grown geese with guttural sibilance
Lie waiting to be housed. The thrushes' song
Gurgles within the quaint old apple-trees.
Over yon yellow patch of turnip bloom
Stands the white windmill with its resting sail.
The lapwing cries among the tender corn,
And mocks the querulous bleat of tottering lambs
Heard through the hedges. The white nettle-flower
And the light kex look whiter in the dusk.
The fern-owl twists its note in neighbouring field.
Small night moths have begun their wanderings,
And cross the course of humming cockchafers.
And the late robin at the willow's top
Pipes to its fellow on the poplar bough;
While mellow thunders, crushing far away
The gathering night-clouds, reach us faintly borne.
And now the hearts of men are stirred with prayer,
The pensive mother lays her babe to rest,
And while the shadowy stillness deepens o'er
The walks and plets seen through the open pane,
Deep wishes crowd upon her, wondering hopes,
Fond recollections, softly trembling fears,
In this hour's pause from labour; and her heart,
Tossing awhile in its own deeps, looks up
And sees a chasm opening into heaven,
With one high star that glitters on her soul.
Sweet, holy influences descend like dew,
And draw forth incense from her kindling thought;
Her cares are hushed, her spirit talks with God,
And, in His heavenly place, with Christ she sits.