The noisy crowd, and daylight’s dazzling power;
Her melancholy mind could not endure
This weary world’s confusion. All day long
She sat retired within her secret bower,
While on the willows high her harp was hung—
Twas only in the night, she tuned her harp and sung.
XXIX.
When came the midnight hour with peaceful calm,
Congenial to the contemplative mind—
That hour when holy mem’ry doth embalm