Classic Poem

IN MEMORY OF A POET .


I saw in the silent afternoon
The overladen sun go down;
While, in the opposing sky, the moon,
Between the steeples of the town,

Went upward, like a golden scale
Outweighed by that which sank beyond;
And over the river, and over the vale,
With odours from the lily-pond,

The purple vapours calmly swung;
And, gathering in the twilight trees,
The many vesper minstrels sung
Their plaintive mid-day memories,

Till, one by one, they dropped away
From music into slumber deep;
And now the very woodlands lay
Folding their shadowy wings in sleep.

Oh, Peace! that like a vesper psalm
Hallows the daylight at its close;
Oh, Sleep! that like the vapour's calm
Mantles the spirit in repose, —

Through all the twilight falling dim,
Through all the song which passed away,
Ye did not stoop your wings to him
Whose shallop on the river lay

Without an oar, without a helm; —
His great soul in his marvellous eyes
Gazing on from realm to realm
Through all the world of mysteries!