The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1897-07-09
2octical.
WHEN EyENING CONFETTI ON.

| When evening cOmCth on.
| slower and statelicr III The meiiowlng sky
| The fane-likC purple ShaGuwed clouds arise;
| Cooler and balmer doth the soft wind sigh:
| Lnvelicr. lonelirr to our wondering eyes
| The Sortening landscape seems. The swallows
| fly
| Swift through the radiant vault the field lark
| cries
| Thrilling. sweet farewell and twilight bands
| OF misty silence cross the far-on lands
| When evening cometh on.
When evening comcth ON,
Deener and drcamcr grows the Slnmbering
| dell,
| Darker and drearicr spreads the hristling wold,
Bluer and heavier roll the hills that swell
| In moveleSs wuVcSa gainSt the shimmering gold.
Gut from their hnunts the insect hordcs, That
| dwell
Their ticctng hour of rcvel, and by the pool
| Soft pipings rise up from the grasses cool,
| When evening cometh on.
When evening eometh on,
Along their well-known paths with heavier
| The sad-eyed. lettering kline unurgrd return:
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 tnrOugn the purpilg mist the moon doth
ytaTn;
Pale gentle radiance. dear recurring dream,
Soft with the in ling dew fl lis thy faint BEAM
When evening cometh on.
When evening cometh on,
Loosed from ,he day 5 long toll the clanking
teams
With matted ste ps pass on their iostling ways
Their gearing glinted by the waning beams :;
Close by their heels the hecdful collie strays;
All slowly fading in land of dreams,
Transilgured Spectres of the Shroudiug haze.
Thus from life's 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 fields of gathered grain
The soul of summer breathes deep repoSe,
Mysterious murmurings mingle on the plain,
And from the blurred and blended brake there
flows
The undulating echoes of some strain
Once heard in paradise, perchance-who knows:
Blu now the whispering memory sadly struys
AiUng the dim rows of the rustIing maize
When evening cometh on.
Whom 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 Il shadowy
bank.
o. lost Elysium. art thou hiding there?
Flows yet that crystal st cam whereof drank.
All, wild-eyed Memory, fly IRON nights de-
Spalr;
Thy strong wings droop with heavier weight
When evening cometh on.
When evening cometh on
No sounding phrase can set the heart at rest;
The settling gloom that creepS by wood ana
stream,
The bars tnat lie along the smoudering west,
The tall and lonely silent trees that seem
To mock the grooming earth, and turn to jest
This waverinE flame, this agOnlzing dream,
All, all bring sorrow as the clouds bring rain,
And evermore life'S struggle secmeth vain
When evening cometh on.
When evening cometh on,
Anear doth Life stand by the great unknown,
In darkness reaching out her scntieut hands;
PHILOSOPHERS and creedS alike are thrown
Beneath her feet. aid questioning she stands
lose on the brink, unfearing and alone,
And lists the duh wave breaking on the sands,
Albeit her thoughtful eyes are filled with
tears.
So lonely and so sad the sound she hears
When evening cometh on.
When evening cometn on,
Vain seems the world, and vaincr wise mems
thought.
All colors vanish when the sun goes down.
Fame'S purple mantle some proud soul hath
caught
No better seems than doth the carth-stained
gown
Worn by Content. All names shall be forgot
ID nth plucks the stars To Geek his sable crown.
The fair enchautmcnt of The golden day
Far through the NaIe of shadows melt away
Wien evening cOmcth 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 il he while this vpNed earth shall roll.
Tak then the portion which the gods allow
Dear heart, may at last on thy warm breast
Sink to torgetfulneSs and silent rest
When evening cOmeth on?
-RoBERT BURNS WILSON, i'll Hd'l'e''$ Magazine.