Classic Poem

The evening sun was sinking down
On low green hills and clustered trees;
It was a scene as fair and lone
As ever felt the soothing breeze

That cools the grass when day is gone,
And gives the waves a brighter blue,
And makes the soft white clouds sail on--
Like spirits of ethereal dew

Which all the morn had hovered o'er
The azure flowers, where they were nursed,
And now return to Heaven once more,
Where their bright glories shone at first.