Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/A Spring Evening

A Spring Evening.

The glorious Heaven its golden tinting throws On young flowers filled with dew,The vernal landscape's trembling image glows Through waves of clearest blue.

The mountain streamlet,—the bright-blossomed hedge,— Woods bathed in sunlight streams,—The evening star, that on the purple edge Of yonder soft cloud beams;—

The meadow green,—the shrubby valley cool,— The hill with verdure clad,—The alder-shadowed brook,—the lilied pool,— All, all are fair and glad.

Oh! how encircleth everlasting Love Creation with its band,The glowworm's light,—yon fiery orbs above,— Are kindled by one hand.

At Thy command, Almighty! from its place Drops the frail leaflet here:At Thy command, through realms of boundless space Is hurled the falling sphere.