'Twas evening's hour of magic power,
The sun went brightly down,
And shadows fell as with a spell,
Along the mountains brown.

On high the sky, with gorgeous dye,
Then glittered bright and wide,
And westward far, the evening star,
Came trembling like a bride.

The birds did chime their drowsy rhyme,
As day was getting o'er,
The rippling wave, did sweetly lave
The winding, pebbly shore.

There walked beside that crystal tide,
Fair Holston's lovely stream,
My lady bright, at soft twilight,
In beauty's matchless gleam.

And I did walk and softly talk
Unto her beauty there,
And deemed that she more fair must be,
Than Goddess, wrought of air.

Her hand in mine--"Oh! be thou mine,
Nor scorn my pleading sigh."
"Yes"--still I cried, "be thou my bride,
My own, until we die!"

Now as that tide doth onward glide
To reach the glittering sea,
With sparkling glow, our souls will flow,
To bright eternity.