Serenade.

A poem by Walter R. Cassels

The day is fading from the sky,
And softly shines the Star of Even,
As watching with a lover's eye
The rest of Earth the peace of Heaven;
The dew is rising cool and sweet,
And, zephyr-rock'd, the flowers are closing,
The Night steals on with noiseless feet,
Oh! gentle be my love's reposing.

The streamlet, as it flows along,
Sounds like a voice 'mid childhood's slumbers;
And from the brake the Queen of Song
Pours forth her softest, clearest numbers;
And ever through the stirless leaves
The summer moon is brightly streaming,
Light fancies on the sward it weaves,--
As radiant be my lady's dreaming.

The silent hours move swiftly on,
With many a blessed vision laden,
That all the night has softly shone
Upon the hearts of youth and maiden;
And now, in golden splendors drest,
The new-born day is gladly breaking,
Oh! blissful be my lady's rest,
And sweet as Morn be her awaking.

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