evening.
51
And pours her mild, reflected light,
To soothe and bless the weary sight.
And may my spirit often wake
Like thine, sweet bird; and, singing, take
Another farewell of the sun,—
Of pleasures past, of labors done.
See, where the glorious sun has set,
A line of light is lingering yet:
O, thus may love awhile illume
The silent darkness of my tomb.
To soothe and bless the weary sight.
And may my spirit often wake
Like thine, sweet bird; and, singing, take
Another farewell of the sun,—
Of pleasures past, of labors done.
See, where the glorious sun has set,
A line of light is lingering yet:
O, thus may love awhile illume
The silent darkness of my tomb.
