GRAY EVENING.
THE evening’s gown of gray
Sweeps over the sighing grain:
She comes, with her tender smile,
As the sunset’s glories wane;
And the flowers nod to her,
And the grasses kiss her feet,
And she sings to the weary day
A lullaby, low and sweet:
Sing soft, sing low,
O Evening gray!
Hush thou to rest
The weary day.
The morning was very fair,
And she laughed for very glee;
And the blossoms, waking, breathed
Of love and of hope to me.
But love and hope have waned
As the sunset colors wane—
O Evening, come, for the day
Is athrob with fevered pain!
Sing soft, sing low,
Sweet Evening gray!
Lull thou to rest
The heart-wrung day.
Charles Prescott Shermon.