Page 50
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5 revisions | CYT Students at Aug 29, 2018 02:49 PM | |
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Page 50AFTER SUNSET AFTER sundset in the west, Robes that clad the monarch Day, Golden crown and crimson vest, All are spurned and cast away. Far along the the purple sea Fading splendors slowly die; Many a bird to many a tree Rustling flies, for night is nigh. After sunset, gone the glow, All the air with silence fills; After sunset, colder blow Wailing winds from lonly hills. Ceased is labor, hushed is mirth, Day has died on couch of gold; Twilight veils the weary earth, Quiet broods o'er flock and fold. After sunset, o'er the moor Slowly flies the plover home; To the leafy cottage door, Sleepy-eyed, the children come; Watching how the great white moon Rises high o'er hill and plain; Silvery stars will sparkle soon, Peeping out and in again. After sunset, melodies All unheard in noisy day, Like a fragrant southern breeze Through the pensive spirit stray. Mem'ries, lost, ah me! so long, Floating round me dreamily, Like a dim-rememberrd song, Melt into a thought of thee! THE WORLD ON WHEELS.--STATE COACH OF JOHN V. OF PORTUGAL. THE WORLD ON WHEELS.--EARLY MAIL COACH. | Page 50AFTER SUNSET AFTER sundset in the west, Robes that clad the monarch Day, Golden crown and crimson vest, All are spurned and cast away. Far along the the purple sea Fading splendors slowly die; Many a bird to many a tree Rustling flies, for night is nigh. After sunset, gone the glow, All the air with silence fills; After sunset, colder blow Wailing winds from lonly hills. Ceased is labor, hushed is mirth, Day has died on couch of gold; Twilight veils the weary earth, Quiet broods o'er flock and fold. After sunset, o'er the moor Slowly flies the plover home; To the leafy cottage door, Sleepy-eyed, the children come; Watching how the great white moon Rises high o'er hill and plain; Silvery stars will sparkle soon, Peeping out and in again. After sunset, melodies All unheard in noisy day, Like a fragrant southern breeze Through the pensive spirit stray. Mem'ries, lost, ah me! so long, Floating round me dreamily, Like a dim-rememberrd song, Melt into a thought of thee! THE WORLD ON WHEELS.--STATE COACH OF JOHN V. OF PORTUGAL. THE WORLD ON WHEELS.--EARLY MAIL COACH. |