Volume Iii Part 4 (2/2)

Now air is hushed, save where the weak-eyed bat With short shrill shriek flits by on leathern wing, Or where the beetle winds His small but sullen horn,

As oft he rises, 'midst the twilight path Against the pilgrim borne in heedless hum: Now teach me, maid composed, To breathe some softened strain,

Whose numbers, stealing through thy darkening vale, May not unseemly with its stillness suit, As, musing slow, I hail Thy genial loved return!

For when thy folding-star arising shows His paly circlet, at his warning lamp The fragrant Hours, and Elves Who slept in buds the day,

And many a Nymph who wreathes her brows with sedge, And sheds the freshening dew, and, lovelier still, The pensive Pleasures sweet, Prepare thy shadowy car:

Then lead, calm votaress, where some sheety lake Cheers the lone heath, or some time-hallowed pile, Or upland fallows gray Reflect its last cool gleam.

Or, if chill bl.u.s.tering winds, or driving rain, Prevent my willing feet, be mine the hut That, from the mountain's side, Views wilds and swelling floods,

And hamlets brown, and dim-discovered spires, And hears their simple bell, and marks o'er all Thy dewy fingers draw The gradual dusky veil.

While Spring shall pour his showers, as of the wont, And bathe thy breathing tresses, meekest Eve!

While Summer loves to sport Beneath thy lingering light;

While sallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves, Or Winter, yelling through the troublous air, Affrights thy shrinking train, And rudely rends thy robes:

So long, regardful of thy quiet rule, Shall Fancy, Friends.h.i.+p, Science, smiling Peace, Thy gentlest influence own, And hymn thy favorite name!

William Collins [1721-1759]

”IT IS A BEAUTEOUS EVENING, CALM AND FREE”

It is a beauteous evening, calm and free; The holy time is quiet as a Nun Breathless with adoration; the broad sun Is sinking down in his tranquility; The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea; Listen! the mighty Being is awake, And doth with his eternal motion make A sound like thunder--everlastingly.

Dear Child! dear Girl! that walkest with me here, If thou appear untouched by solemn thought, Thy nature is not therefore less divine: Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year, And wors.h.i.+p'st at the Temple's inner shrine, G.o.d being with thee when we know it not.

William Wordsworth [1770-1850]

GLOAMING

Skies to the West are stained with madder; Amber light on the rare blue hills; The sough of the pines is growing sadder; From the meadow-lands sound the whippoorwills.

Air is sweet with the breath of clover; Dusk is on, and the day is over.

Skies to the East are streaked with golden; Tremulous light on the darkening pond; Glow-worms pale, to the dark beholden; Twitterings hush in the hedge beyond.

Air is sweet with the breath of clover; Silver the hills where the moon climbs over.

Robert Adger Bowen [1868-

EVENING MELODY

O that the pines which crown yon steep Their fires might ne'er surrender!

O that yon fervid knoll might keep, While lasts the world, its splendor!

Pale poplars on the breeze that lean, And in the sunset s.h.i.+ver, O that your golden stems might screen For aye yon gla.s.sy river!

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