Evening

The sun upon the lake is low,

The wild birds hush their song;

The hills have evening's deepest glow,

Yet Leonard tarries long.

Now, all whom varied toil and care

From home and love divide,

In the calm sunset may repair

Each to the loved one's side.

The noble dame on turret high,

Who waits her gallant knight,

Looks to the western beam to spy

The flash of armor bright

The village maid, with hand on brow

The level ray to shade,

Upon the footpath watches now

For Colin's darkening plaid.

Now to their mates the wild swans row,

By day they swam apart;

And to the thicket wanders slow

The hind beside the hart.

The woodlark at his partner's side

Twitters his closing song—

All meet whom day and care divide,—

But Leonard tarries long!