The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1885-11-18
WHEN EVENING CoMErH ON.


When evening cometh on,
Slower and stateer in the mellowng sky
The fane-like purpe-shadowed clouds arise;
Cooler and balmier doth the soft wind sigh;
Loyeller, lonelier to our wondering eyes
The softenng landscape seems The swallows fly
Swift through the radiant vaul; the feld-lark cries
His thrilling, sweet farewell and twilight bands
or misty silence cross the far-of lands
When evening cometh on.
When evening cometh on,
reeper and DREAMER grows the slumberlne dell,
Darker and drearier spreads the brlstng void,
Bluer and heavier roll the hills that swell
In moveless waves against the shimmering gold.
Out from their haunts the insect hordes, that
dwell
Unseen by day, come thronglng forth to hold
Their ieeting hour OF roye, and by the pool
sort plpings rise up from the grasses cool,
When evening cometh on
When evening cometh on,
Along their well-known paths with heavier tread
The sad-eyed, lettering kline unurged return;
The peaceful sheep, by unseen shepherds led
Wend bleaiing to the hills, so well they learn
Where Natures hand their wholesome couch
hath spread.
Add through the purpllng mist the moon doth
syearn;
Pale,gepae radiance dear recurring dream,
Soft with the falling dew falls thy faint beam,
When evening cometh on.
When evening cometh on,
Loosed from the days long toll the clanking
teams
With hal'ing steps pass on their jostng ways,
Their gcarings glinted by the waning beams;
Close by their heels this he dfu collie strays;
All slowly fading in land OF dreams,
Transdgured specters OF the shroudng haze.
Thus from lifes field the hearts fond hope doth
fade,
Thus doth the weary spirit seek the shade,
When evening cometn on.
When evening cometh on,
Across the dotted fields Of gathered grain
The soul OF summer breathes deep repose,
Mysterious murmurings minglo on the plain,
And from the blurred and blended brake there
The undulating echoes OF some strain
Once heard in paradise, perchapce--who knows2
But now the whispering memory sadly strays
Along the dim rows Of the rustling maizs
When evening cometh on
When evening cometh on,
Anon there spreads upon the lingering air
The musk OF weedy slopes aud grasses dank,
And odors from far fields, unseen but fair.
With scent OF flowers from many shadowy bank.
Oh,lost Eysium, art thou hiding there!
Flows yet that crystal stream whereof drank,
All, wild-eyed Memory, fly from nights despairt
Thy strong wings droop with heavier weight of
When evening cometh on.
When evening cometh on
No ,hroao tt,o
The settling gloom that creeps by wood and
stream,
The bars that lie along the smoudering west,
The tall and lonely silent trees that seem
To mock the groaning earth, and turn to Jest
This wayering flame, this agonizng dream,
All, all bnng sorrow as the clouds bring rain,
And eyeImorc life's struggle seemeth vain
When evening come:h on.
When evening cometh on,
Anear doth Life stand by the great unknown,
On darkness reaching out her sentient hands;
PHILOSOPHERS and creeds alike are thrown
Beneath her feet, and questioning she sands
Close on the brink, unfearing and alone,
And lists the dull wave breaking on the sands,
Albeit her thoughtful eyes are filed with tears,
So lonely and so sad the sound she hears
When evening cometh on.
hHtn evening Conetn on,
Vain seems the world, and vainer wise mans |
thought
All colors vanish when the sun goeth down.
Fame's purple mantle some proud soul hath
caught
No better seems than doth the earth-stained gown
Worn by Content. All names shall be forgot
Death pucks the stars TO deck his sable crown.
The fair enchantment of the golden day
Far through the vale of shadows melt away
When evening cometh on.
When evening cometh on,
Love, only love, can stay the sinking soul,
And smooth thoughts racking fever from the
brow;
The wounded heart Love only can console.
Whatever brings balm for sorrow now,
So must II De while this vexed earth shall roll.
Take then the portion which the gods allow.
Dear heart, may at last on thy warm breast
Sink TO forgetfulness and silent rest
When evening cometh on
Robert Burns Wilson, in Harpsr's.
In A BOTTLE,
1t was a beautiful day in midsummer,
and the f-a-hundred-od cabin pas
sengers on the good steamship Mantle
were listlessly lounging about the deck.
They were already nine days out from
Liverpool, and owing to an unfortunate
accident, which had occurred early on
the voyage, only haIf the distance to
their port of destination had been ac-
complished.