Classic Poem

When Evening folds her wings of light,
And bathes her rosy cheeks in dew,
And one pale star proclaims the night,
From its exalted throne of blue:
My soul! how eager hast thou leaped,
Cribbed and imprisoned as thou art,
To be of these a shining part,
In their ethereal essence steeped!
And on this altar, on this heart of clay,
Hast offered sacrifice, and bore away
An incense sweet of Prayer above that starry ray.

When Night flings wide her ebon gates,
And Darkness, like a flood, pours in,
Shewing the star-born choir that waits
Its psalm seraphic to begin:
How hast thou caught their burning words,
That never fall on worlding ears,
Hast filched the hymning of the spheres,
As it was swept from nature's chords;
Hast known and felt that every ray of light
Brings to our ears a portion of that bright
And star-lipped anthem that pervades the solemn night.

When o'er the everlasting hills
The golden Morning soars sublime,
And Day's triumphant Paean fills
The heavens, as in that primal time
When first the birds rehearsed their songs
In groves by Angels' visits blest:
Worshipping Soul! some heavenly guest
To thy diviner moods belongs!
In the old Forest, with the whispering trees,
Morn, Eve and Night, thou learnest melodies,
Extracts sweet music from the warbling breeze,
Thou hast, my heart forever on its bended knees!