IV
’Tis evening, and the clouds hang low,
The rain has fall’n the livelong day,
But in the west there is a ray,
A gentle gleam of evening-glow.
Down are the curtains and the shades,
Where hearts in silence weep and brood,
They nature’s sadness may exclude,
But also that one gleam—which fades.
I would that she might see it now,
That which was once her soul’s delight,
That it could meet her tearful sight,
From o’er the verdant hillock’s brow.
It would, indeed, be rude to say,
To those around the cheerless hearth,
“Arise, and smile, let grief depart,
Forget the clouds which gloomed the day.”
For sorrow, like a swollen stream,
Must have its course, or break its bounds,
And oft its bitterness redounds
To joy, of which we did not dream.
But that sweet sunset seems to say,
“He was a good man, and a just,
“You best can honor him by trust
“In Him who leads us day by day.”