THE evening sun still brightens all the west
And sends his mellow rays across the lake,
Lying in shadow, to the green hill-tops,
That answer with a smile of luminous peace.
Purely the waves transparent kiss the shore,
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And with a steady love the west-wind blows
Refreshing cool. A moment yet I stay,
While the soft hills grow purple, and the sea's
Sweet lips are tinged with violet at the approach
Of her unloved and dark-browed suitor, night.
Alas, poor timorous lake! It dreads to shift
Its leaden waves in heavy restlessness
Under a midnight sky; it fears to pass
Thus darkly to the rosy ray of morn.
W. P. E.
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