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And in my raptured soul I consecrate
All past devotion, and I feel how vain
All mortal joy or pain,
In such a fleeting state;
And raise my soul beyond a few brief tears,
To the great Author of eternal years!

Then, Evening! as upon my soothed heart
Thy breath is felt, and falls thy cooling shade,
In heaven's own calm surveyed,
A holier influence they impart;
And while thy gloomy clouds above me roll,
A brighter day is dawning on my soul.

O! ever thus be mine thy hallowed hours,
Thy twilight shadows, and thy fitful sighs,
Thy breezes cold, that wildly rise,
Thy fragrant closing flowers;
And ever mine, thy soft, mysterious spell,
That makes the human heart sadly, yet sweetly swell.