Classic Poem

In twilight lingers yet a hue
Of light that fades along the distant west,
The blushing rose sips up the evening dew,
And homeward flies the birdling to its nest.

The shepherd leads his flock unto the fold,
And sounding bells are heard along the hills,
And fainter grows the cloudlet tinged with gold,
A deeper twilight all the valley fills.

With clanking chains and drivers urging on,
The teams at longer intervals go by,
And soon the sounds that mark the day are gone,
In myriads the stars shine in the sky.

The heavens yield their faintest tints of blue,
And softer grows the murmur of the sea,
The west is robbed of every golden hue,
And silent, peaceful night begins to be.

The tired workmen to their huts return,
Where childish greetings wait them at the door,
And sweet a simple bliss which they well earn
Makes rich the humble cabin of the poor.

The cloth is spread, and o'er the frugal fare,
The grace is said and, yea, the least is blest,
For at that festival unseen is there
To grace the board, a silent heavenly guest.

Around the family altar blest with love
They come with reverence and God adore;
There faith in phrases set, to God above,
Takes up the meek petitions of the poor.

O'er all who haunt the sea or land about,
In love alike for those who weep or sing
The silent darkness kindly stretches out
And folds the earth beneath her brooding wing.

Of all the gifts to man in heavenly grace,
O! soothing night, of blessing thou art blest,
The sinless child, and wretch in thy embrace,
Are cradled in forgetfulness and rest.

For humble slave and swain with labor spent,
For hearts bowed down with pain and aching woes,
In love and kindest mercy thou art sent
To give them all in sleep a sweet repose.