Evening

                                   I.
     Fair in the dancing foliage over me
     The fading splendors of the light I see
     As the full glory of departing Day
Streams from his Golden Gates in many a softened ray.

     From its blue sheath Sultana Eve lets slip
     Her shining scimitar, as she kneels to dip
     Her tresses forward in the founts of noon
And man, half-seeing, say ‘Behold the setting moon!”

     No more the sun-fed choirs Memsonian sing,
     But nurse new powers beneath their folded wing.
     All save the wild glee of the Whippoorwill
In bonds of blissful dreamy, or dreamless bliss, are still.

     As Day’s invisible breath is chill’d to dew
     In sparkling orblets beautiful to view,
     So all the fire-mist of his heart, afar,
Bedews the plains of heaven with many a burning altar.

                                   II.
     There is no sweeter time for me
     Than when, at eventide, I see
     The golden gleams of parting day,
     Melt off to twilight’s dusky ray.

     Then gentle Fairies love to slip
     From out the lily-bells, to dip
     Their dancing feet at midnight’s noon,
     In few-drops lit by summer moon.

     Gay birds that in the daylight sing
     Their merry songs, on sunbright wing,
     Give place to lovely whippoorwill,
     Who makes the stillness seem more still.

     A veil falls round me, with the dew,
     That shuts me out from alien [?] view,
     And leaves me free to seek afar
     Sweet company of moon & star.

                              III.
     What is that power that moves in me
     With motion mortals cannot see
     Sometimes mor brilliant than the day
     Again obscure as evening’s ray

     In shadows o’er my heart ;twill slip
     And then my spirit seems to dip
     In light, as cheering as the noon
     Or rays as fair as yon pale moon.

     And oft it makes my spirit sing
     And mount aloft on eagle’s wing
     Though toss’d about by fortune’s will
     It struggles in my bosom still.

     It cheers my heart like morning dew,
     And yet its form I cannot view;
     It shines in glory from afar,
     “Tis Hope, my spirit’s morning star!

                              IV.
A summer sunset’s glory gleams on me,
An aureate King whirl’d [?] royally I see
In dolphin [?] beauties of the dying day
Purple & carmine clouds, a grand array.

     Slowly from heaven the splendors slip
     And ‘neath the dark horizon dip
     Gone is the burning heat of noon;
     Comes the soft soothing of the moon

     Maidens low music sing,
     Fan’d by night’s cooling wing;
     Mild grows the stubborn will
     Grow the rude passions still.

          Clear drops of dew
          Sparking to view
          Woo from afar
          The Evening Star.

                              V.
Gently fall the dews on me
Gathering shades of eve I see.
Slowly fadeth out the day,
Fainter grows each dying ray.

Distant hills my vision slip
And in misty shadows drip
Flowers that closed their eyes at noon
Joyous lift them to the moon.

Now, no more the day-birds sing
Heard no more the rustling wing,
[?] the notes of Whippoorwill
Plaintive pour in evening still

Sparkling gems of fallen dew
On the grass & flowers we view
While in yon blue dome afar
Mildly shines the evening star.