XXV.
LLYING awake at holy eventide,While in clear mournfulness the throstle’s hymnHushes the night, and the great west, grown dim,Laments the sunset’s evanescent pride:Lo! behold an orb of silver brightlyGrow from the fringe of sunset, like a dreamFrom Thought’s severe infinitude, and nightlyShow forth God’s glory in its sacred gleam.Ah, Hesper! maidenliest star that ereTwinkled in firmament! cool gloaming’s primeCheerer, whose fairness maketh wondrous fairOld pastorals, and the Spenserian rhyme:—Thy soft seduction doth my soul enthralLike music, with a dying, dying fall!
LLYING awake at holy eventide,While in clear mournfulness the throstle’s hymnHushes the night, and the great west, grown dim,Laments the sunset’s evanescent pride:Lo! behold an orb of silver brightlyGrow from the fringe of sunset, like a dreamFrom Thought’s severe infinitude, and nightlyShow forth God’s glory in its sacred gleam.Ah, Hesper! maidenliest star that ereTwinkled in firmament! cool gloaming’s primeCheerer, whose fairness maketh wondrous fairOld pastorals, and the Spenserian rhyme:—Thy soft seduction doth my soul enthralLike music, with a dying, dying fall!
LLYING awake at holy eventide,While in clear mournfulness the throstle’s hymnHushes the night, and the great west, grown dim,Laments the sunset’s evanescent pride:Lo! behold an orb of silver brightlyGrow from the fringe of sunset, like a dreamFrom Thought’s severe infinitude, and nightlyShow forth God’s glory in its sacred gleam.Ah, Hesper! maidenliest star that ereTwinkled in firmament! cool gloaming’s primeCheerer, whose fairness maketh wondrous fairOld pastorals, and the Spenserian rhyme:—Thy soft seduction doth my soul enthralLike music, with a dying, dying fall!
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