III.
The sunset's purple splendors fade,
The dark'ning shades of twilight fall,
The moonbeam's silver touch is laid
On sculptur'd saint and pictur'd wall;
And while the weeping watcher kneels,
And silence weaves her magic spells,
The gray dawn thro' the oriel steals,
And morning wakes the matin-bells.
Advent, 1872.