PART III. TO THE EVENING WIND. SPIRIT, that breathest through my lattice, thou And swelling the white sail. I welcome thee Nor I alone a thousand bosoms round Inhale thee in the fulness of delight; And languid forms rise up, and pulses bound Livelier, at coming of the wind of night; And, languishing to hear thy grateful sound, Lies the vast inland stretch'd beyond the sight. Go forth, into the gathering shade; go forth, God's blessing breath'd upon the fainting earth! Go, rock the little wood-bird in his nest, Curl the still waters, bright with stars, and rouse The wide old wood from his majestic rest, Summoning from the innumerable boughs The strange, deep harmonies that haunt his breast: Pleasant shall be thy way where meekly bows The shutting flower, and darkling waters pass, And 'twixt the o'ershadowing branches and the grass. The faint old man shall lean his silver head, And they who stand about the sick man's bed, Thy visit, grateful to his burning brow. Go but the circle of eternal change, Which is the life of nature, shall restore, With sounds and scents from all thy mighty range, BRYANT. A MOONLIGHT NIGHT. How beautiful on yonder casement panes With what a lovely and majestic step And oh how soft, how silently she pours Her chasten'd radiance on the scene below; And hill, and dale, and tower Drink the pure flood of light! roll thus, Queen of the midnight hour, For ever beautiful! NEELE. |