Slow fades the twilight from the glowing west, And one pale star hangs o’er yon mountain’s brow; With deeper joy, that may not be repressed, O Life, they hail thee now!
And not alone from this poor heart of mine Do these glad notes of grateful love ascend; Voices from mount and vale and woodland shrine In the full chorus blend.
The young leaves feel thy presence and rejoice The while they frolic with the happy breeze; And pæans sweeter than a seraph’s voice Rise from the swaying trees.
Each flower that hides within the forest dim, Where mortal eye may ne’er its beauty see, Waves its light censer, while it breathes a hymn In humble praise of thee.
Through quivering pines the gentle south winds stray, Singing low songs that bid the tear-drops start; And thoughts of thee are in each trembling lay, Thrilling the listener’s heart.
Old Ocean lifts his solemn voice on high, Thy name, O Life, repeating evermore, While sweeping gales and rushing storms reply From many a far-off shore.
The stars are gathering in the darkening skies, But our dull ears their music may not hear, Though, while we list, their swelling anthems rise Exultingly and clear!
O Earth is beautiful! She weareth still The golden radiance of life’s early day; Still Love and Hope for me their chalice fill,— Life, turn not thou away!
THE CHIMNEY SWALLOW
One night as I sat by my table, Tired of books and pen, With wandering thoughts far straying Out into the world of men;— That world where the busy workers Such magical deeds are doing, Each one with a steady purpose His own pet plans pursuing;