AN EVENING SCENE.

How still and calm! what fairer scene e'er met

The eye of mortal short of Paradise?

The quiet lake is like a mirror set

In richest green where sunset loves to see

Itself arrayed in crimson, pink and gold.

And e'en the proud old mountain bows his head

Shaggy with hemlocks, and appears well pleased

To view so grand a form reflected there.

Hark! o'er the polished surface how the loons

Call to each other, waking echoes wild

From crag and cliff, and waking in my heart

Sweet memories of other days and years

When health was on my cheek, and hope and love

O'er all the future wove one iris bright.

Ah, little prophets, do you then predict

A rainy morrow? By yon crimson west

I doubt your warnings; so in truth it seems

Does yonder farmer who, with shouldered scythe

From meadows fragrant with the new-mown hay,

Goes whistling homeward, glad to seek repose

Until another sun shall call him forth,

To gather into barns the winter's store

Of food provided for the gentle king

That faintly lowing from the pastures come

Scented with herbage, giving promise fair

Of pails o'erflowing with a sweeter drink

Than ever gleamed in the inebriate's bowl.

Now o'er the landscape signs of twilight creep,

And sounds that tell of night — sounds that I love:

The hooting of the owl, the tree-frog's cry

By distance mellowed; and — more distant still —

I hear the barking of the village dogs.

The breath of evening whispering‘ mid the pines,

And deepening shadows, bid me homeward turn;

And yet I linger — for I seem a part

Of lake and mountain, meadow, tree and sky,—

And realize how sweet a thing it is

To lay my heart so close to Nature's own

That I can feel its throbbing, while each pulse

Responsive beats, and o'er my being steals

A rapturous calm like that out parents felt

When to the bowers of Eden they repaired,

And praised their Maker seen in all his works.

Author of nature! Source of life and light!

Almighty Father! let me praise thee too.

This lovely world is thine; yon moon and stars

That now begin to usher in the night

Are but the outposts of unnumbered spheres

That march in order round thy dazzling throne,

And chant thy praises in perpetual song.

All these are thine, for thou hast made them all;

And I am thine! I thank thee, Lord of lords,

King of the Universe, Creator, God,

That while in part I realize thy power

I know it has an equal in the love

Which bowed the heavens and consecrated earth

When the Messiah came to save mankind,

And in its proper orbit reinstate

A fallen world, which shall one day become

The fairest‘ mid the sisterhood of orbs,

The most renowned because the dearest bought,—

The best beloved, because the ransom given

Was all that God omnipotent could pay!