Poems (Hornblower)/Evening

by Jane Elizabeth Roscoe Hornblower

For works with similar titles, see Evening.

EVENING.

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Oh Evening! in thy light, subdued and pale,
 I love to wander forth, when the cold breeze
 Upon the night-cloud flees,
And deep thy shades prevail;
When all is hushed, and nature seems to share
With human hearts the universal prayer.

I love to meditate, as on thy sky
 Sits the blest empress of the silent night,
 On realms more pure and bright,
And raise my mournful eye
From earth and grief, and the dark ills of time,
To heavenlier scenes, and visions more sublime.

And, as the million rays of worlds of bliss
 Rise up in the dun void, and seem to say,
 A Father's hand upon our way
Hath launched us through the dark abyss,
Awed by their silent glory, swift I turn
From hopes and fears of earth, and holier feelings burn.

And in my raptured soul I consecrate
 All past devotion, and I feel how vain
 All mortal joy or pain,
In such a fleeting state;
And raise my soul beyond a few brief tears,
To the great Author of eternal years!

Then, Evening! as upon my soothed heart
 Thy breath is felt, and falls thy cooling shade,
 In heaven's own calm surveyed,
A holier influence they impart;
And while thy gloomy clouds above me roll,
A brighter day is dawning on my soul.

O! ever thus be mine thy hallowed hours,
 Thy twilight shadows, and thy fitful sighs,
 Thy breezes cold, that wildly rise,
Thy fragrant closing flowers;
And ever mine, thy soft, mysterious spell,
That makes the human heart sadly, yet sweetly swell.