Evening Tranquillity.

How still this hour !  the mellow sun1
                        
                        Withdraws his western ray,2
                        
                        And, evening’s haven almost won,3
                        
                        He leaves the seas of day :4
                        
                        Soft is the twilight reign, and calm,5
                        
                        As o’er autumnal fields of balm6
                        
                        The languid zephyrs stray ;7
                        
                        Across the lawn the heifers roam,8
                        
                        The wearied reaper seeks his home.9
                        The laden earth is rich with flowers,10
                        
                        All bathed in crimson light ;11
                        
                        While hums the bee mid garden bowers12
                        
                        With clustering roses bright :13
                        
                        The woods outshoot their shadows dim ;14
                        
                        O’er the smooth lake the swallows skim15
                        
                        In wild erratic flight ;16
                        
                        Moor’d by the marge, the shallop sleeps,17
                        
                        Above its deck the willow weeps.18
                        ’Tis sweet, in such an hour as this,19
                        
                        To bend the pensive way,20
                        
                        Scan nature, and partake-the bliss21
                        
                        Which charms like hers convey :22
                        
                        No city’s bustling noise is near ;23
                        
                        And but the little birds you hear,24
                        
                        That chant so blithe and gay ;25
                        
                        And ask ye whence their mirth began ?26
                        
                        Perchance since free, and far from man.27
                        Their little lives are void of care ;28
                        
                        From bush to brake they fly,29
                        
                        Filling the rich ambrosial air30
                        
                        Of August’s painted sky :31
                        
                        They flit about the fragrant wood ;32
                        
                        Elisha’s God provides them food,33
                        
                        And hears them when they cry ;34
                        
                        For ever blithe and blest are they,35
                        
                        Their sinless course a summer’s day.36
                        Yon bending clouds all purpling streak37
                        
                        The mantle of the west ;38
                        
                        And tremulously the sunbeams break39
                        
                        On Pentland’s mountain crest :40
                        
                        Hill, valley, ocean, sky, and stream,41
                        
                        All wear one placid look, and seem42
                        
                        In silent beauty blest ;43
                        
                        As if created Natures raised44
                        
                        To heaven their choral souls, and praised.45
                        Above yon cottage on the plain46
                        
                        The wreathy smoke ascends ;47
                        
                        A silent emblem, with the main48
                        
                        Of sailing clouds it blends ;49
                        
                        Like a departed spirit gone50
                        
                        Up from low earth to Glory’s throne51
                        
                        To mix with sainted friends,52
                        
                        Where, life’s probation voyage o’er,53
                        
                        Grief’s sail is fur’d forevermore !54