The Republican journal. [volume] (Belfast, Me.) 1829-current, 1885-10-01
When Evening Cometh On.
When evening cometh on,

hen evening c0meth on,
Slower and statelier in the melowing sky
The fane-like purple Swallowed clouds arise;
Cooler and balmier doth the soft wind sigh;
Lovelier, lonelier to our wondering eyes
The sottening landscape seems. The swaI-
lows fly
Swift through the radiant vault: the tield-lark
cries
His thrilling, sweet farewell; and twilight
bands
OF misty silence cross the far-otf lands
When evening cometh on.
When evening cometh oil,
Deeper and DREAMER grows the slumbering
dell,
Darker and drearier spreads the bris Ting void,
Bluer and heavier roll the hills that swell
In moveless waves against the shimmering
Out from their haunts the insect horde>, that
dwell
Unseen by day. come thronging forth to hold
Their fleeing hour of reyel, and by the pool
Soft pipings rise up from the grasses cool,
W hen evening cometh on.
When evening cometh on.
Along their wel-known paths with heavier
tread
The peaceful sheep. by unseen shepherds led,
Wend bleating to the hills, so well they learn
Where Natures hand their wholesome couch
hath spread.
And through the purpling mist the moon doth
yeaTn:
Pale. gentle radiance. dear recurring dream.
Soft with the falling dew falls thy faint beam.
When evening comcth on.
When evening cometh on.
Loosed from the days long toll. the clanklng
teams
With hating steps pass or their iostling WAYS,
Their gearings glinted by the waning beams !;
Close by their heels the heedfui collie strays:
AL slowly fading in land Of dreams.
TRANSPORTED spectres of the shrouding haze.
Thus from life'> field the hearts fond hope
doth fade,
Thus doth the weary spirit seek the shade,
When evening cometh on
When evening cometh on.
Across the dotted tieid- of gathered grain
The soul of summer brt athe> deep repose.
Mysterious mufmurings mingie on the plain,
And from the blurred and blended brake there
flows
The undulating echoes of some strain
Once heard Y. in paradise rerchanee-who
But now the whispering memory sadly strays
Along the dim rows of the rusting maize
" hen evening cometh on.
When evening cometh on.
Anon there spreads upon the lingering air
The musk of weedy slopes and grasses dank,
And odors from far fields. unseen but fair.
With scent of flowers from many a shadoWy
bank.
Q lost Elysum, art thou hiding there:
Flows yet that crystal stream whereof drank,
All. wiid-eyed Memory. fly from nights de-
spair:
Thy strong wings droop with heavier weight
Of care
When evening cometh on
When evening cometh on
No sounding phrase can sci the heart at rest.
The settling gloom that creeps by wood and
stream.
The bars that lie along the smouldering west,
The tall and lonely silent trees that seem
To llock The grooming earth, and turn to lest
This watering 1lame. this agonizing dream,
All, all nring sorrow he clouds bring rain,
And evermore life'> struggle seeineth vain
Nhcn evening cometh on.
When evening cometh on.
Anear doth Lite stand by the great unknown,
In darkness reaching out her >entient hands;
PHILOSOPHERS aud creeGs alike are thrown
Beneath her feet, and questioning she stands
Close on the BRINK, unfearing and alone,
And lists the dull wave breaking Oh the sands.
Albeit her thoughtfui eyes are filed With
tears.
So lonely and - sad the sound she hears
W hen evening comch on.
When evening comcth on.
Vain seems the world. and vaner wise mems
thought.
All toor> vanish when the sun goeth down.
Fane'> purple mantle some proud -oui hath
caught
No better seems than doth the eall:l.,tained
gown
Worn by Content. All names Shall 1e forgot.
Death piuek> the stars 10 deck his sable crown.
The fair enchantmonl Of the golden day
Far through the vale Of shadows melt away
When ming cometh on.
When evening comnth on.
Love. only joNa, ran stay h sinking soul.
And smooth thousIt's racking fever from the
brow:
The wounded heart Love only can console.
Whatever brings 4 balm for sorrow now.
>o must it be While Ibis veXod earth shall
roll
Take then tie PARTON which he god> allow.
Dear heart. may al last en- thy warm bgea>t
>nh 10 f9!4ettune-~ and silent rest
When evening c0mrth oil.
Robert Burns Wilson, in laTeI'S Magazine
for October.