Classic Poem

Now day's bright Orb has left our lonely sphere,
No more the flocks, no more the flowers appear;
But still and slow descend the balmy dew,
And earth's dark surface with their moisture strew.
Night comes apace, faint gleams the western day,
Hoarse screams th' Corn-craik , from the dewy hay;
Crawl'd, from yon ruins, where she shuns the light,
The flutt'ring Bat begins her mazy flight.
All aether's hush'd, no other sound I hear,
Save some lone stream, slow murm'ring on my ear.
But, see! the moon, deep-flush'd, with paler light,
Of clouds disrob'd, dispels the pitchy night,
With rising splendor brightens to the view,
Gay, rolling onward through th' olympian blue;
The stars, surrounding, sparkle on the eye,
And Night in solemn pomp o'erspreads the sky.
My heart exults at such a scene as this,
And feels emotions words can ne'er express.