But on the still grey eve what glory breaks!
A glowing sphere between the trembling trees,
As though the wondering world returning sees
A silvern sun a softer day that makes,
Ere this departs and his last song doth cease
With his last breath that night’s enchantment takes.
ILLUSIONS
I STOOPED to drink of Life’s enchanted stream,
From fair green meads and flowery marge of youth,