Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, LOVE AT EVENING, by JAMES GATES PERCIVAL


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

LOVE AT EVENING, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: It was the hour of moonlight, and the bells
Last Line: Steal silently unto their hallowed rest.
Subject(s): Evening; Love; Sunset; Twilight


IT was the hour of moonlight -- and the bells
Had rung their curfew tones, and they were still;
The echo died around the distant hill,
Accordant with the fitful wind, that blew
Over the new mown meadow, where the dew
Stood twinkling on the closely shaven stems,
Glittering as 'twere a carpet sown with gems;
And from the winding river there arose
A mist, that curled in volumed folds, and gave
A snowy mantle to the stealing wave,
Like that which fancy, love-enchanted throws
Over the form it doats on with a feeling
Of most endeared fondness, blind to all,
That is not light and loveliness, concealing
The tints of weakness with a darkest pall:
And as the moon descending on the cloud,
Gives it a rainbow livery, and hues
All softness and all beauty, so imbues
The fond eye of affection with all charms
The image of its awe: and he is proud,
Aye, prouder than the proudest, when his arms
Around that form of loveliness are flung,
And when those melting eyes are on him hung,
And when those lips are moving in sweet tones,
That tell, whate'er the words be, that she owns
No other for her love -- and then the sigh
Struggles within her bosom, and her eye
Is wet with rising tears, and then the smile
Plays sweetly on her parting lips awhile,
And then she hangs upon his arm, and tells,
Her heart how happy -- and that fond heart swells
To give its feelings utterance, and she sings
Sweetly, as when the lark at morning springs
From out a dewy thicket, and away
Winnows his easy flight to meet the day;
And thus their eyes are blended, and they gaze
A moment on each other, and then turn
To where the countless fires of ether burn,
And look from Heaven with soft and soothing rays;
A moment with uplifted brow they pour
The swelling current of devotion o'er,
And then descending from that upward flight,
Again their eyes in tender looks unite,
Again they speak in under tones, as still
As are the winds that rustle on the hill,
Then side by side in links of fondness prest
Steal silently unto their hallowed rest.






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