Ere set of sun, and long and full of cares
The laboring day. ’Tis now as night, soft night,
Descending and enfolding, whereon bright
Old hours of toil are shining, sanctified
To stars that light and guide!
IV.
Ah, not with numbing of one noble hope
Turn we from facing Death inexorable,
But with strong souls and stable!
Deep heaven hath surely scope