Classic Poem

Friend of the pensive wanderer, Twilight, hail!
Pleased I observe thee roll thy sea of clouds
Athwart the crimson throne
Of the departing sun.

For then what various objects, dimly seen,
By wonder-working Fancy touched, acquire
An awe-inspiring air,
And urge Fear's hurried step!

See! thine attendant, the low-sailing bat,
Flaps his brown wing, begins his circling flight;
E'en midnight's tuneful bird
To hail thee pours her strain.

I love thy simple garb; no brilliant stars
Adorn thy dusky vest, unlike to that
Worn by thy sister Night,
Save when she reigns in storms.

Nor canst thou boast the many-tinted robe
Worn by thy beauteous herald, blushing Eve.
Thine is a veil of gray,
Meet for the cloistered maid.

Thou nurse of saddening thoughts, prolong thy stay,
Let me adore thee still! Eve's glowing grace,
Night's fire-embroidered vest,
Alike displease my eye;

For I am Sorrow's child, and thy cold showers,
Thy mist-encircled forms, thy doubtful shapes,
Wake a responsive chord
Within my troubled soul.

For, oh! to me futurity appears
Wrapt in a chilling veil of glooms, and mists;
Nor seems one tint, or star,
To deck her furrowed brow.

But slowly cross her path imperfect shapes
Of danger, sorrow, phrensy, and despair,
Force their uneasy way,
And pale my cold, sunk cheek.

But see; the unwelcome moon unveils her head,
(Those hours are gone in which I hailed her beams)
Distinctness spreads around,
And mimic day appears.

I loath the cheerful sight, as still my fate,
O Twilight, bears a hue resembling thine;
And envy-struck I shun
The scene I cannot share.

I'll to my couch,....yet not, alas! to rest:
By artificial gloom I'll suit my soul,
And e'en from pity hide
My dim and sleepless eyes.