The Legend of Genevieve with other tales and poems. By Delta [i.e. David Macbeth Moir] |
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EVENTIDE. |
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 | The Legend of Genevieve |  |
119
EVENTIDE.
I
Oh! how sweet is eventide!Come, my loved one, come to me;
Cast domestic cares aside,
As I oft have done for thee:
On the summer bank I stand,
Dark green woods on either hand;
Round my path the flowers are blowing,
O'er my head the sky is clear,
Soft below the stream is flowing,
All were sweet, if thou wert near!
II
Burning in dilated glow,See the orb of day expire!
And the ambient clouds of snow,
Crimson'd o'er with living fire;
120
Balm, to heal a wounded heart?
Soften now their tints to amber;
Sink the lines of lingering light;
Darkness, from her ebon chamber,
Rushing, takes the reins of Night!
III
Sad and silent are the groves;Birds forget to soar and sing;
Past, in short, quick circle roves
Drowsy bat on leathern wing.
Gently now the evening breeze
Curls the lake, and stirs the trees;
Dimly now the planets twinkle;
Darkens round the leafy dell;
Sadly fitful, comes the tinkle
Of the distant curfew bell.
IV
Hast thou, oh my love, forgot,Here in quest of thee I roam?
Night descends on grove and grot,
Pensively I wander home.
121
Balm, to heal a wounded heart;
Heaven, or hell on earth, thou makest,
Lord and light of all below,
Ecstacy or anguish wakest,
Deepest bliss, or darkest woe!
| The Legend of Genevieve | |