POEMS.
THE HERMIT.
A FRAGMENT.
Written at the Age of Fifteen.
A lovely eve—the setting sun
Its work of glory had begun,
And, ere it parted from our gaze,
Shed all around its beauteous rays,
As if it would enclasp the scene
Where it had reigned in beauty's sheen.
The glow had pierced a valley deep,
Where Nature's beauty seemed to sleep—
Its work of glory had begun,
And, ere it parted from our gaze,
Shed all around its beauteous rays,
As if it would enclasp the scene
Where it had reigned in beauty's sheen.
The glow had pierced a valley deep,
Where Nature's beauty seemed to sleep—
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