Duly and cheerfully to toil, and up
Rises the hammer's clink, with the far hum
Of moving wheels, and multitudes astir,
And all that in a city murmur swells.
N. P. Willis.
23. When the west
Opens her golden bowers of rest,
And a moist radiance from the skies
Shoots trembling down, as from the eyes
Of some meek penitent, whose last