A Summer Evening Scene

A Summer Evening Scene

The moon is risen on the hill;

The stars in glorious beauty shine;

The hosts of heaven and earth are still,

As silenced by a power divine;

Nor more the western skies display

The ruby tints of parting day.

It is a calmly sacred hour,

When half the word is wrapt in sleep;

When pleasure's charm foregoes its power,

And sorrow's eye forgets to weep;

Save where the joyous band and free,
Whose lives are sold to revelry,
Beguile the hour, their last perchance,
With music and the mazy dance;
Save where abroad, 'mid falling dews,
The solitude of evening views
The lonely trav'ler on his way,
The rambler, willingly astray;
Or where the pensive son of sorrow
Broods o'er his grief, and chides the morrow;
For in all wo there is a strange
And still unmeaning love of change.

Hark! from the shore, where thickly springs

The tangled cress, the cricket sings,
Whose carol makes his own delight,
The lullaby of list'ning night.
The waters, where they sleeping lie,
Reflect the trees, the hill, the sky;
As if, enamored of the scene,
They sought to catch its beauteous sheen;
And thus they show a fairy land,
False to the touch of curious hand;
A mimick earth, a spectre sky,
A world known only to the eye.
Anon, the gentle zephyrs break
The glassy stillness of the lake,
Whose waves are dashed against the shore,
As if an angel brooded o'er,
And woke them from their quiet bed,
As Siloa's billows erst were sped.

Yon fleecy clouds, - how light they fly

Across the brilliant azure sky!
Before the silver moon they glide,
And vain her beauty seek to hide:
The dazzling stars unnumbered glow,
While they look down on man below,
With pity for his hapless years;
And these soft dew-drops seem their tears.

The friends who low in dust now lie,

On these same heavens once bent their eye,
The spangled vault admiring gazed,
And all its gorgeous beauty praised;
Yea, living friends, this self-same night,
Have marked the glory of the sight:
Sure in this thought a pleasure dwells,
Which half the grief of absence quells.
Kind nature yields an influence
Which gently soothes the grateful sense,
Calms raging passions soft to rest,
Enkindles love within the breast;
And leads the soul enrapt to praise
The God who nature's self obeys.
So calm, so fair, in silver light,
It seems a paradisial night,
And yon same stars on Eden shone,
Which wake the sigh for glory gone.
If this dark earth, by sin defiled,

And doomed full soon to pass away

A vale of tears, a desert wile,

Such passing loveliness display,

O, what is heaven, the region where
No sin nor sorrow e'er appear!
Where, on life's sea no longer toss'd,
Man shall resume his glory lost!

Newton, Mass., Aug. 9, 1839.

S.L.

New Series 2:25, p. 96

1841.08.21

From the Watchman