The day is done and every hour is spent
And now it lies a-dying in the west,
Yet with what wonder those last moments blest
Crown all with the chaste kiss of sweet content;
For nature's minstrels sing a carol pent
With the soft music of the spheres suppressed
In one great strain--the while upon night's breast
The dying day sinks down in languishment.

And in those last faint breaths as 'twere in sooth
The halo of some saint, a glowing light
Of purest gold streams through the darkened sky,
A light more wondrous than the dawn of youth--
For 'tis a flame cleft out the veil of night
From that eternal dawn that ne'er can die!