| |
| UPON the mountain’s rugged crest | |
| There lingers still a glow, | |
| But twilight’s gathering gloom has drest | |
| The valleys far below; | |
| No wild wind sways the mountain pine, | 5 |
| No breeze bends down the flower, | |
| And dim and faint the star-beams shine | |
| Upon the vesper hour. | |
| |
| Here, in the fading sunset light, | |
| I breathe the upper air, | 10 |
| And hear the low, sad voice of Night, | |
| Inviting Earth to prayer! | |
| Still deeper through the wide profound | |
| The solemn shadows fall, | |
| And rest upon the hills around | 15 |
| Like Nature’s funeral pall. | |
| |
| Now comes to break the breathless spell, | |
| In blended evening-hymn, | |
| The chime of many a distant bell | |
| From valleys deep and dim; | 20 |
| And as they fall, the warder-star | |
| That guards the twilight pale, | |
| Looks o’er the eastern hills afar | |
| And dons his silver mail. | |
| |
| The shadows deepen, as I stand— | 25 |
| The rosy glow is gone, | |
| And westward, towards my native land, | |
| The sunset marches on! | |
| Ye stars, with whose familiar glance | |
| My thoughts are mingling free, | 30 |
| Shine, glimmering o’er the wide expanse, | |
| And bear them home for me! | |
| |
| Still all is breathless, as in prayer, | |
| But to my spirit-ear | |
| Kind voices float upon the air, | 35 |
| Fond eyes are beaming near. | |
| The love, whose pinions never rest, | |
| Soars, constant, o’er the sea, | |
| And by the thrill within my breast | |
| I know they speak of me! | 40 |
| |
| The gentle spirit of the hour | |
| Melts in the dew of tears, | |
| And yielding to its spell of power | |
| I muse on vanished years, | |
| Till through the gloom no more is heard | 45 |
| The solemn evening-chime, | |
| And mourn the pine-boughs, faintly stirred, | |
| The hurrying march of Time. | |
| |
