SERENADE.

The day is fading from the sky,
  And softly shines the Star of Even,
As watching with a lover's eye
  The rest of Earth the peace of Heaven;
The dew is rising cool and sweet,
  And, zephyr-rock'd, the flowers are closing,
The Night steals on with noiseless feet,
  Oh! gentle be my love's reposing.

The streamlet, as it flows along,
  Sounds like a voice 'mid childhood's slumbers;
And from the brake the Queen of Song
  Pours forth her softest, clearest numbers;
And ever through the stirless leaves
  The summer moon is brightly streaming,
Light fancies on the sward it weaves,—
  As radiant be my lady's dreaming.

The silent hours move swiftly on,
  With many a blessed vision laden,
That all the night has softly shone
  Upon the hearts of youth and maiden;
And now, in golden splendors drest,
  The new-born day is gladly breaking,
Oh! blissful be my lady's rest,
  And sweet as Morn be her awaking.