At Evening.

A softening haze pervades the dreamy dells,1
Rich roseate tints suffuse the heavens high ;2
While from the wood’s ingulfed recesses swells3
The song-birds’ pæan, pealing to the sky.4
A while, and o’er the gray wide-spreading wolds5
The first faint shades of evening slowly creep ;6
And faint-heard voices from far-distant folds7
Sound like remembered voices heard in sleep.8
Eve’s herald star, remembrancer, of trysts9
Held under its soft beam in bygone years,10
O’ertops the far-off height. The twilight mists,11
Veiling the land, as daylight disappears,12
Grow more and more ; and the soft evening breeze13
Swoons seaward soon, yearning for pulseless ease.14