When slow from pensive twilight's latest gleams
'O'er the dark mountain top descends the ray'
That stains with crimson tinge the water grey
And still, I listen while the dells and streams
And vanished woods a lulling murmur make;
As Vesper first begins to twinkle bright
And on the dark hillside the cottage light,
With long reflexion streams across the lake.
The lonely grey-duck darkling on his way
Quacks clamorous; deep the measured strokes rebound
Of unseen oar parting with hollow sound
While the slow curfew shuts the eye of day
Soothed by the stilly scene with many a sigh,
Heaves the full heart nor knows for whom, or why.