Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/105

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SABBATH EVENING TWILIGHT.
87
I love thee for the fervid glow Thou shedd'st around the closing day—Those golden fires, those wreaths of snow, That light and pave his glorious way!Through them, I've sometimes thought, the eye May pierce the unmeasured deeps of space,And track the course where spirits fly On viewless wings, to realms of bliss.
I love thee for the unbroken calm That slumbers on this fading scene,And throws its kind and soothing charm O'er "all the little world within."It trances every roving thought, Yet sets the soaring fancy free,—Shuts from the soul the present out That all is musing memory.
I love those joyous memories, That rush, with thee, upon the soul,—Those deep, unuttered symphonies, That o'er the spell-bound spirit roll.All the bright scenes of love and youth Revive, as if they had not fled;And Fancy clothes with seeming truth The forms she rescues from the dead.
Yet holier is thy peaceful close, For vows love left recorded there;This is the noiseless hour we chose To consecrate to mutual prayer.'Twas when misfortune's fearful cloud Was gathering o'er the brow of heaven.Ere yet despair's eternal shroud Wrapped every vision hope had given.
When these deep purpling shades came down, In softened tints, upon the hills,We swore, that, whether fate should crown Our future course with joys or ills,—Whether safe moored in love's retreat, Or severed wide by mount and sea,This hour, in spirit, we would meet, And urge to Heaven our mutual plea.✱✱✱✱✱
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