Grieves not to put its toils away;
Which, calmed with thoughts of coming rest,
Watches the sweet, still evening fade,
Counting its hours all unafraid,—
Surely the evening is the best.
OPTIMISM.
YOU tell me, with a little scorn,
Grieves not to put its toils away;
Which, calmed with thoughts of coming rest,
Watches the sweet, still evening fade,
Counting its hours all unafraid,—
Surely the evening is the best.
YOU tell me, with a little scorn,