An Evening Monologue.
In this evening calm, with the sun gone down.
While the wide west glows like a crimson sea,
Flooding with splendor the fields and the town.
Talk if you will, or idly dream,
With your gaze on the track of the vanished sun.
Our thoughts shall blend though silent the stream;
Speech and silence to us are one.
Up from the south comes a breath of spring:
It flutters your beard and lifts your hair;
Yonder a robin, with folded wing,
Sits and sings in the branches bare.
Sweet hour of peace! On the prairies brown,
On the quiet homestead's dun-gray walls,
On the silent lanes, on the distant town,
Like a benediction the twilight falls.
Slowly, softly, the roseate glow
Pales, yet lingers; the robin's tune
Is hushed to silence; a silver bow
Hangs on high___'tis the new white moon.
The moments pass. See that moving gleam!
Nearer it comes, swift, weirdly bright;
And a train, life-laden, with eerie scream,
Sweeps down the valley into the night.
The moments pass. We are wrapped about
With thickening shadows; one by one,
In the deep, dark blue, the stars shine out.
Night and silence___the day is done.
Oft have we watched the daylight fade,
But a time must come we know___the last.
And the sweep of years will not be stayed;
The on-coming night is hastening fast
Once, then, to watch, while the darkness creeps,
And you or I___oh! which shall it be?___
Must wake and weep while the other sleeps.
Old and alone___ah me! ah me!