Classic Poem

Another day of mingled joy and grief
To swell the records of the past hath flown;
The gathering twilight brings a glad relief,
A soul-entrancing sweetness all its own.

Here 'neath the welcome shadow let me rest,
And sweet communion with my spirit hold;
While darkness draws a veil o'er Nature's breast,
And silence reigns unbroken o'er the wold.

Unbroken—save where yonder leafy spray
O'erhangs the margin of the sleepless stream,
The nightingale pours forth its varied lay
Or through the woods the startled night-birds scream.

In peaceful hamlets hushed the busy hum;
The cheerful homes their sturdy inmates hold;
The lowing herds from distant pastures come;
The bleating flocks now seek the welcome fold.

From latticed windows, struggling through the gloom,
In flickering streams, the ruddy firelight glows;
And merry laughter issuing from the room
In soft and gentle ripples toward me flows.

See where yon hill, in gloomy grandeur, rears
Its wood-crowned summit to the eastern skies,
The silver crescent of the moon appears,
And bathed in beauty all the landscape lies.

Beneath the solemn covering of the night,
My thoughts revert to the departed day;
I ask them, is their record pure and bright?
Of good or evil, what report have they?

Of feebly made resolves, more feebly kept;
Or earnest zeal and warfare for the right?
The pliant conscience—has it basely slept,
Or ruled its promptings by the “inward light?”

Have envy, anger, malice, hatred, stained
The precious moments of the fleeting day?
Or love toward God and all His works remained
To keep my faltering footsteps in the way?

The daily record let me thus review,
And ask of God to grant my spirit power
The coming day the contest to renew,
With hope of victory ere its closing hour.

For, in this season of communion sweet,
The soul seems nearer to its Maker drawn;
And, strengthened by His presence, waits to greet
With holier purpose the returning morn.