Evening.
TTHE evening now is still and calm,As if sad Eloïsa’s soulHad breathed a spiritual balmThroughout the softened whole.Within the azure of the skyThere shineth not a single star;But in a soft serenityThe Crescent cometh from afar.In darker lines the firs that shadeThe house of Merkland round and round,Come out, and from the fragrant gladeNo liquid notes resound:I heard the birds this live-long day,In sweet unwrinkled blending,As if this merry month of MayShould never have an ending.O could I utter thoughts that rise,O could I sing the tenderSoftness of the summer skies,In all their virgin splendour!O crescent Moon, like pearlëd barkTo ferry souls to glory;O silent deepening of the darkO’er vale and promontory!Alas, that I should live, and beA churl in soul, while slowlyGod makes the solemn eve, and breathesA calm thro’ hearts unholy!
TTHE evening now is still and calm,As if sad Eloïsa’s soulHad breathed a spiritual balmThroughout the softened whole.Within the azure of the skyThere shineth not a single star;But in a soft serenityThe Crescent cometh from afar.In darker lines the firs that shadeThe house of Merkland round and round,Come out, and from the fragrant gladeNo liquid notes resound:I heard the birds this live-long day,In sweet unwrinkled blending,As if this merry month of MayShould never have an ending.O could I utter thoughts that rise,O could I sing the tenderSoftness of the summer skies,In all their virgin splendour!O crescent Moon, like pearlëd barkTo ferry souls to glory;O silent deepening of the darkO’er vale and promontory!Alas, that I should live, and beA churl in soul, while slowlyGod makes the solemn eve, and breathesA calm thro’ hearts unholy!
TTHE evening now is still and calm,As if sad Eloïsa’s soulHad breathed a spiritual balmThroughout the softened whole.Within the azure of the skyThere shineth not a single star;But in a soft serenityThe Crescent cometh from afar.In darker lines the firs that shadeThe house of Merkland round and round,Come out, and from the fragrant gladeNo liquid notes resound:I heard the birds this live-long day,In sweet unwrinkled blending,As if this merry month of MayShould never have an ending.O could I utter thoughts that rise,O could I sing the tenderSoftness of the summer skies,In all their virgin splendour!O crescent Moon, like pearlëd barkTo ferry souls to glory;O silent deepening of the darkO’er vale and promontory!Alas, that I should live, and beA churl in soul, while slowlyGod makes the solemn eve, and breathesA calm thro’ hearts unholy!
T