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'Tis Evening! soul enchanting hour,
And queenly silence reigns supreme;
A shade is cast o'er lake and bower,
All nature sinks beneath the power
Of sweet oblivion's dream.

The Sun-the hero-god of day,
Has from this happier half of earth,
Passed on with sweet life-giving ray,
To smile on millions glad and gay,
In sorrow or in mirth.

While in his stead, the Heavens above
Are shaded with a silver light,
So soft, so pure-that angels rove,
To guard from evil those who love
The God, who made all bright.

Then soon that planetary sea
Is studded o'er with diadems,
Shining alike on land and sea.
High, high above the loftiest tree;
Proud Nature's priceless gems.

Who would not leave the crowded room,
The grand, but cold musician's art;
To wander 'neath the calm still moon.
When nature speaks 'mid wild perfume,
So sweetly to the heart.

Who would not shun proud Fashion's hall,
Escape her cold and torturings ways,
To calmly rest where dew-drops fall;
Perfumes that mind and soul enthrall,
Beneath fair Luna's rays.

Who would exchange a home of flowers,
Down in a pure and modest dell,
For palaces 'mid art-reared bowers,
Washed o'er by artificial showers,
Where naught but sorrows dwell.

Blest hour of thought! to thy pure scene
A mild and soothing charm is given,
When hearts to hearts in love convene,
And roses deck the silvered green
Of mingled Earth and Heaven.

The truth-that plainly proves a God,
Not chance, performed the better part
Which teaches us His Heavenly Word:
Breathes magic for the singing bird,
And links us heart to heart.

© Annie McCarer Darlington