Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/177
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THE EVENING STAR.
159
Thy flower, her vigil lone hath kept
With love's untiring care;
Though round her pinks and violets slept,
She wakefully hath watched and wept,
Unto the dewy air;
And like a desolate bride she waits
For the opening of her lover's gates.
With love's untiring care;
Though round her pinks and violets slept,
She wakefully hath watched and wept,
Unto the dewy air;
And like a desolate bride she waits
For the opening of her lover's gates.
Oh, then, arise, fair sister dear!
Awake, beloved Day!
For many a silent, trembling tear,
Falls on my breast like diamond clear,
In grief for thy delay,
From the rosy bowers of the orient skies,
Then up, sweet sister, arise, arise!
Awake, beloved Day!
For many a silent, trembling tear,
Falls on my breast like diamond clear,
In grief for thy delay,
From the rosy bowers of the orient skies,
Then up, sweet sister, arise, arise!
Sunset.
It is the hour when winds and waves
Scarce heave one sigh around their caves;
It is the hour to musing sweet,
When sun, and sea, in glory meet.
The sinking orb seems in his flight
Pausing, to bid the world good-night;
No funeral waters o'er him swell,
And peal afar his parting knell;
But though he's gone beneath the sea,
A pensive glow like memory,
That beauteous light of suns long set,
In softened radiance lingers yet.
Scarce heave one sigh around their caves;
It is the hour to musing sweet,
When sun, and sea, in glory meet.
The sinking orb seems in his flight
Pausing, to bid the world good-night;
No funeral waters o'er him swell,
And peal afar his parting knell;
But though he's gone beneath the sea,
A pensive glow like memory,
That beauteous light of suns long set,
In softened radiance lingers yet.
The Evening Star.
Star of the Evening! How I love to mark
Thy beam thus gleaming tremulously bright,
Upon the ocean wave! How brightly dark
Shines thy lone ray, thou herald of the night!
Thy beam thus gleaming tremulously bright,
Upon the ocean wave! How brightly dark
Shines thy lone ray, thou herald of the night!
Thou lovely star! I've sometimes gazed at thee
Till I have almost wept, I knew not why;
Tell me, my heart, what can that feeling be
Which makes thee at those moments throb so high?
Till I have almost wept, I knew not why;
Tell me, my heart, what can that feeling be
Which makes thee at those moments throb so high?