GRAY EVENING.
THEevening’s gown of graySweeps over the sighing grain:She comes, with her tender smile,As the sunset’s glories wane;And the flowers nod to her,And the grasses kiss her feet,And she sings to the weary dayA lullaby, low and sweet:Sing soft, sing low,O Evening gray!Hush thou to restThe weary day.The morning was very fair,And she laughed for very glee;And the blossoms, waking, breathedOf love and of hope to me.But love and hope have wanedAs the sunset colors wane—O Evening, come, for the dayIs athrob with fevered pain!Sing soft, sing low,Sweet Evening gray!Lull thou to restThe heart-wrung day.Charles Prescott Shermon.
THEevening’s gown of graySweeps over the sighing grain:She comes, with her tender smile,As the sunset’s glories wane;And the flowers nod to her,And the grasses kiss her feet,And she sings to the weary dayA lullaby, low and sweet:Sing soft, sing low,O Evening gray!Hush thou to restThe weary day.The morning was very fair,And she laughed for very glee;And the blossoms, waking, breathedOf love and of hope to me.But love and hope have wanedAs the sunset colors wane—O Evening, come, for the dayIs athrob with fevered pain!Sing soft, sing low,Sweet Evening gray!Lull thou to restThe heart-wrung day.Charles Prescott Shermon.
THEevening’s gown of graySweeps over the sighing grain:She comes, with her tender smile,As the sunset’s glories wane;And the flowers nod to her,And the grasses kiss her feet,And she sings to the weary dayA lullaby, low and sweet:Sing soft, sing low,O Evening gray!Hush thou to restThe weary day.
THEevening’s gown of gray
Sweeps over the sighing grain:
She comes, with her tender smile,
As the sunset’s glories wane;
And the flowers nod to her,
And the grasses kiss her feet,
And she sings to the weary day
A lullaby, low and sweet:
Sing soft, sing low,
O Evening gray!
Hush thou to rest
The weary day.
The morning was very fair,And she laughed for very glee;And the blossoms, waking, breathedOf love and of hope to me.But love and hope have wanedAs the sunset colors wane—O Evening, come, for the dayIs athrob with fevered pain!Sing soft, sing low,Sweet Evening gray!Lull thou to restThe heart-wrung day.
The morning was very fair,
And she laughed for very glee;
And the blossoms, waking, breathed
Of love and of hope to me.
But love and hope have waned
As the sunset colors wane—
O Evening, come, for the day
Is athrob with fevered pain!
Sing soft, sing low,
Sweet Evening gray!
Lull thou to rest
The heart-wrung day.
Charles Prescott Shermon.
Charles Prescott Shermon.