Sonnet

Night broods o'er earth with shadowy wing unfurled
     And the pale stars look tremulously down
Like spirits on a hushed and slumbering world—
     Their glow is softly resting like a crown
Of silver on the brow of hill and mount,
And the low music of yon gushing fount
Floats like a Peri’s voice upon the air,
Murmuring solemnly a solemn prayer!
Comes a low whisper to the listening Earth,
     Seeming of mingled pleasure and regret,
     As if the spirits of the air had met
To mingle sorrow in one tone with mirth;
Chastening the heart that lingers in their spell,
Yet filling it with joy unspeakable!