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The stirless air, the blue and placid sky.
And oh! how fair the fragrant calm of eve,—
Earth's peaceful sabbath,—nature's golden hour,—
When all is bright and balmy, pure and clear!
But none more fair, and none so felt within,
As thine, O Night! when thus enshrouded sleep
The countless orbs, that sometimes gem thy brow
With radiance fairer, purer than the day,
And thou hast laid aside thy queenly state,
As if to muse, all wrapt in robe of gloom.—
It is the hour of thought:—now wake to life
The depths that sleep enshrined in every heart,
Perchance 'mid brighter scenes unfelt, unknown;
But when the eye can meet no living form
On which to gaze, the mind unfettered turns
To seek that inborn light,—that mental beam,
Which brightest shines when all without is gloom.
And oh! how fair the fragrant calm of eve,—
Earth's peaceful sabbath,—nature's golden hour,—
When all is bright and balmy, pure and clear!
But none more fair, and none so felt within,
As thine, O Night! when thus enshrouded sleep
The countless orbs, that sometimes gem thy brow
With radiance fairer, purer than the day,
And thou hast laid aside thy queenly state,
As if to muse, all wrapt in robe of gloom.—
It is the hour of thought:—now wake to life
The depths that sleep enshrined in every heart,
Perchance 'mid brighter scenes unfelt, unknown;
But when the eye can meet no living form
On which to gaze, the mind unfettered turns
To seek that inborn light,—that mental beam,
Which brightest shines when all without is gloom.
As now I gaze into the night, and strive
To pierce that veil which mantles o'er her brow,
What thoughts and feelings,—yea, what living forms
Rise silently from yonder sea of gloom,
And sweep across the mind with magic power,
Mingling the future, present, and the past,
In one long waking dream. Oh, strange it is,
How from the inmost depths, where Memory sleeps,
At such an hour forgotten scenes arise:
At first like shadows, dim and undefined,
But brightening soon with clear though mellowed ray,
They live in thought again; till, link by link,
The chain of past events shines forth once more,
Unbroken and undimmed. Yea! all are there:
Familiar forms now throng the dark expanse;
To pierce that veil which mantles o'er her brow,
What thoughts and feelings,—yea, what living forms
Rise silently from yonder sea of gloom,
And sweep across the mind with magic power,
Mingling the future, present, and the past,
In one long waking dream. Oh, strange it is,
How from the inmost depths, where Memory sleeps,
At such an hour forgotten scenes arise:
At first like shadows, dim and undefined,
But brightening soon with clear though mellowed ray,
They live in thought again; till, link by link,
The chain of past events shines forth once more,
Unbroken and undimmed. Yea! all are there:
Familiar forms now throng the dark expanse;
