16
poems.
NIGHT.
(Written in Early Spring.)
Solemn art thou, O Night,
When o'er the heavens thy sable vesture reigns;
Mournfully soft in light,
E'en in their grandeur, are thy starry trains.
When o'er the heavens thy sable vesture reigns;
Mournfully soft in light,
E'en in their grandeur, are thy starry trains.
Pensive thy silent skies
When mists and clouds do veil their lofty zone;
And sad the wind's faint sighs
When o'er the hills they sweep with sullen moan.
When mists and clouds do veil their lofty zone;
And sad the wind's faint sighs
When o'er the hills they sweep with sullen moan.
Dark are thine hours, O Night,
When leafless trees are wailing 'mid the blast;
Nor seems the moon as bright
Since o'er the earth the summer leaves are cast.
When leafless trees are wailing 'mid the blast;
Nor seems the moon as bright
Since o'er the earth the summer leaves are cast.
The cheerful songs are gone;
The summer's music never more we hear;
A far-off stream alone
Lends its lone echo to the list'ning ear.
The summer's music never more we hear;
A far-off stream alone
Lends its lone echo to the list'ning ear.
Is it the same sweet stream
That was my ev'ning music when the night
Was fairer than a dream?
It is the same!—the hours return so bright!
That was my ev'ning music when the night
Was fairer than a dream?
It is the same!—the hours return so bright!
