Then softly glides the moon, whose bright
Unclouded beams in splendour reign,
And golden stars with dreamy light
Fill all the deep, the fiery night,
Like locusts in celestial flight
Across the boundless plain.
Now Evening—like a lover's song,
Elate with passion, joy, and pow'r—
Comes stealing gradually along:
The pregnant mind, composed and strong,
Aglow with thoughts that burn and throng,
Is tempered to the hour;
Till silent, soft, I hear the praise
Of Nature's universal hymn!
So sweet a song nor music plays,
Nor falling waters ever raise,
Nor is it heard in earthly lays—
Mysterious and dim!
A strain of heavenly music lies
In all God's universal plan!
From this great world its chords arise—
It lives, it breathes, it clings, it dies!
It echoes in the stars; it sighs
Deep in the soul of Man.
All soundlessly its notes may steal.
All silently may upward rise,
Yet Harmony would nought conceal,
And still some secret sense can feel
Soft music, like an organ's peal,
Ascending to the skies.
