EVENING: AN ODE.

By Thomas Parnell

Evening now, from purple wings,

Sheds the grateful gifts she brings;

Brilliant drops bedeck the mead,

Cooling breezes shake the reed —

Shake the reed, and curl the stream,

Silver'd o'er with Cynthia's beam;

Near, the chequer'd, lonely grove,

Hears, and keeps thy secrets, Love.

Stella, thither let us stray

Lightly o'er the dewy way!

Phoebus drives his burning car,

Hence, my lovely Stella, far;

In his stead, the Queen of Night

Round us pours a lambent light;

Light that seems but just to show

Breasts that beat, and cheeks that glow;

Let us now, in whisper'd joy,

Evening's silent hours employ,

Silence best, and conscious shades,

Please the hearts that love invades;

Other pleasures give them pain,

Lovers all but love disdain.