155
SONNET.
There is an hour in which I think of thee,
'T is when the daylight fades upon the flowers,
And the moon dawns upon the evening horns,
And nature smiles in soft tranquillity.
'T is a sweet horn—for then the sighing wind,
With dirge-like music, lulls the world to rest;
More plaintive sings the bird upon the nest,
And all seems blessed;—then I call to mind
Thy gentle virtues, and the scenes beloved,
Which we together trod; and like a dream,
Most passing beautiful, do those days seem,
Of confidence serene, and faith approved.
Alas! even like the bright and sunny day,
Have those delightful scenes all past away!
'T is when the daylight fades upon the flowers,
And the moon dawns upon the evening horns,
And nature smiles in soft tranquillity.
'T is a sweet horn—for then the sighing wind,
With dirge-like music, lulls the world to rest;
More plaintive sings the bird upon the nest,
And all seems blessed;—then I call to mind
Thy gentle virtues, and the scenes beloved,
Which we together trod; and like a dream,
Most passing beautiful, do those days seem,
Of confidence serene, and faith approved.
Alas! even like the bright and sunny day,
Have those delightful scenes all past away!
