poems.
39
At the sweet hour of evening's close,
When the moon's rising in the sky,
And all is sunk in deep repose,
Except the wind's low pensive sigh,
Oh, then I think of thee!
When the moon's rising in the sky,
And all is sunk in deep repose,
Except the wind's low pensive sigh,
Oh, then I think of thee!
And in the tranquil hours of night,
When not a sound or breath is giv'n,
When softly beams the moon's pale light,
My pray'r for thee ascends to heav'n;
Oh, then I think of thee!
When not a sound or breath is giv'n,
When softly beams the moon's pale light,
My pray'r for thee ascends to heav'n;
Oh, then I think of thee!
THE CREATION.
:Silence and darkness through the æriel space
Reign'd in their grandeur. No moon or stars,
With beam inspiring hope of brighter hours,
Mov'd through the clouds; but through the awful gloom,
Above the waters of immensity,
God mov'd; and from his presence, at his word,
The curtains of deep darkness from the deep
Were lifted. The light, the light of heaven,
Brought from the temple of eternal glory,
Shone o'er the wide expanse; the darkness fled,
But to resume its place when God should bid
Its sable veil to fall. He call'd it night.
Reign'd in their grandeur. No moon or stars,
With beam inspiring hope of brighter hours,
Mov'd through the clouds; but through the awful gloom,
Above the waters of immensity,
God mov'd; and from his presence, at his word,
The curtains of deep darkness from the deep
Were lifted. The light, the light of heaven,
Brought from the temple of eternal glory,
Shone o'er the wide expanse; the darkness fled,
But to resume its place when God should bid
Its sable veil to fall. He call'd it night.
