Classic Poem

Night is on the hill, —
Hushed the clattering mill:
Deeper shadows fall, —
Only mothers call,
Careless as they roam,
Laughing youngsters home.

Now the evening star,
Over mountain far,
Mild in beauty beaming,
On the fountain streaming,
Turns the eye of love
To the heaven above.

Dark and darker spread
Shadows o'er the bed
Of the woodland lake;
Fainter ripples break
On the pebbled shore:
Evening's breeze is o'er.

Night is deep and still;
Stars unnumbered fill
Nature's temple o'er me;
Glides a light before me,
Steals in darkness far, —
'Tis my spirit's star.