Classic Poem

'Tis the hour when Twilight stealing
O'er the Earth and Sea and skies

Wakes a high and holy feeling,
And fond thoughts of Home arise:
Love's fresh-parted Pilgrim sighing,
Starts to hear the vesper bell,
Breathing to the day-light dying
One last wild-sweet — sad farewell!

In this hour still and solemn
O'er a shrine in fragments laid
Memory on a broken column
Marks the ruin Time has made:
Well-too well alas! recalling
Hopes and Joys forever fled....
O! what burning tears are falling
For the loved — the changed — the dead!