Classic Poem

The dewy car of Eve is past,
And Night begins her reign,
While sable clouds, descending fast,
Obscure the dusky plain. —

How clear the diamonds shine on high,
That deck the robe of Night,
Bespangl'd on the cloudy sky,
In brilliancy of light.

While from her silver seat above,
Pale Cynthia's darted beam,
Awhile illumes the leafy grove,
Or dances on the stream.

No breezy Zephyr o'er the mead,
No murmur breaks my song,
And wrapt in meditation's shade,
Silent, I rove along.

'Tis now the time when all is calm,
And mortals Sleep obey,
For Sleep can best supply that balm,
Which chases grief away.

But mine the task on soaring wing
To tune the moral lyre;
To praise the all-creative King,
And gloriously aspire.

Methinks! I see upon the ground,
Terrestrial planets beam! —
'Tis but the glow-worms strew'd around,
Reflect the varied gleam.

Like mortals, you awhile are proud,
Of all your gilded train,
You rival with the gaudy croud,
But, ah! your pride is vain.

Ye fair! who force of beauty boast,
In them your emblem view,
They last but one short night at most,
As frail and fine as you!

Ah! quit your midnight revels now,
Where dire consumption pains,
Where sickness wans the wrinkl'd brow,
And Death for ever reigns.

With me expatiate o'er this scene,
Remov'd from worldly care,
Oh! tread with me the velvet green,
And breath the balmy air!