91
FRAGMENT.
It is not spring, but still the new-come year
Bears on its softened brow sweet promises
Of soon returning smiles;—twilight again
Claims her soft reign of one delicious hour;
When the red sunset, fading from above,
Leaves on the west an arch of silvery light—
A fairy garden for the evening star
Ere yet the other glorious lamps of heaven
Look on her vesper solitude; or ere
The moon has risen o'er yon shadowy hills.
The hazel flings its yellow blossomings,
