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(From Horton)
WHEN that swallows’ haunt, | |
| St. Stephen’s, with its showers of silvery chimes, | |
| Stood black against the red, dilated sun, | |
| Labor laid down his tools and went away. | |
| The park was loud with games; clear laughter, shrieks, | 5 |
| Came from the rings of girls amid the trees; | |
| The cricketers were eager at their play; | |
| The stream was dotted with the swimmers’ heads; | |
| Gay boats flashed up and down. The level sun | |
| Poured o’er the sward a farewell gush of light, | 10 |
| And Sport transfigured stood! I hurried on, | |
| Through all the mirth, to where the river ran, | |
| In the gray evening, ’tween the hanging woods, | |
| With a soul-soothing murmur. Seated there, | |
| The darkness closing round me, I could see | 15 |
| A lonely angler like a heron stand, | |
| And hear the blackbird piping to the eve, | |
| And smell the wild-rose on the dewy air. | |
| I reached the park hours later,—what a change! | |
| The full moon filled the universal night; | 20 |
| The stream ran white with lustre; walks and trees | |
| Threw their long shadows; a few kine lay dark | |
| In lanes and squares of moonlight; far away | |
| The pallid rim of night was touched with fires; | |
| Stillness was deep as death. * * * * * | 25 |
| Across the moonlight spaces and the shades | |
| I walked in silence, through pale silver streets, | |
| Athwart a desolate and moon-bleached square, | |
| Over a white and solitary bridge, | |
| Until I reached my home. I oped the door, | 30 |
| And ere it closed, I heard a distant spire | |
| Start in its sleep, and murmur of an hour. | |
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