EVENING, as slow thy placid shades descend, 
Veiling with gentlest hush the landscape still, 
The lonely battlement, and farthest hill 
And wood; I think of those that have no friend; 
Who now perhaps, by melancholy led, 
From the broad blaze of day, where pleasure flaunts, 
Retiring, wander 'mid thy lonely haunts 
Unseen; and mark the tints that o'er thy bed 
Hang lovely, oft to musing fancy's eye 
Presenting fairy vales, where the tir'd mind 
Might rest, beyond the murmurs of mankind, 
Nor hear the hourly moans of misery. 
Ah! beauteous views, that hope's fair gleams the while, 
Should smile like you, and perish as thy smile!

Added: Mar 14 2005 | Viewed: 401 times | Comments (0)

Poet: William Lisle Bowles
Poem: VI. Evening, as slow thy placid shades descend...

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