Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/177

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THE EVENING STAR.
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Thy flower, her vigil lone hath kept  With love's untiring care;Though round her pinks and violets slept,She wakefully hath watched and wept,  Unto the dewy air;And like a desolate bride she waitsFor the opening of her lover's gates.
Oh, then, arise, fair sister dear!  Awake, beloved Day!For many a silent, trembling tear,Falls on my breast like diamond clear,  In grief for thy delay,From the rosy bowers of the orient skies,Then up, sweet sister, arise, arise!
Sunset.
It is the hour when winds and wavesScarce heave one sigh around their caves;It is the hour to musing sweet,When sun, and sea, in glory meet.The sinking orb seems in his flightPausing, to bid the world good-night;No funeral waters o'er him swell,And peal afar his parting knell;But though he's gone beneath the sea,A pensive glow like memory,That beauteous light of suns long set,In softened radiance lingers yet.
The Evening Star.
Star of the Evening! How I love to mark Thy beam thus gleaming tremulously bright,Upon the ocean wave! How brightly dark Shines thy lone ray, thou herald of the night!
Thou lovely star! I've sometimes gazed at thee Till I have almost wept, I knew not why;Tell me, my heart, what can that feeling be Which makes thee at those moments throb so high?
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