187. TO THE EVENING STAR. Gem of the crimson-colour'd Even, Why at the closing gates of heaven, So fair thy pensile beauty burns To Peace, to Pleasure, and to Love Thine is the breathing, blushing hour O! sacred to the fall of day Shine on her chosen green resort Shine on her sweetly scented road Shine where my charmer's sweeter breath Where dying winds a sigh bequeath Where, winnow'd by the gentle air, Thus, ever thus, at day's decline T. CAMPBELL. 188. TO THE NIGHT. Swiftly walk over the western wave, Out of the misty eastern cave Wrap thy form in a mantle gray Blind with thine hair the eyes of day, Come, long-sought! When I arose and saw the dawn, I sigh'd for thee; When light rode high, and the dew was gone And noon lay heavy on flower and tree, And the weary Day turn'd to his rest Lingering like an unloved guest, I sigh'd for thee. Thy brother Death came, and cried Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed, Shall I nestle near thy side? Death will come when thou art dead, Sleep will come when thou art fled; P. B. SHELLEY. 189. TO A DISTANT FRIEND. Why art thou silent? Is thy love a plant Yet have my thoughts for thee been vigilant, Speak!--though this soft warm heart, once free to hold A thousand tender pleasures, thine and mine, Speak, that my torturing doubts their end may know! 190. When we two parted To sever for years, Pale grew thy cheek and cold, Truly that hour foretold The dew of the morning They name thee before me, A shudder comes o'er me- In secret we met : That thy heart could forget, Thy spirit deceive. If I should meet thee After long years, How should I greet thee ? With silence and tears. LORD BYRON. 191. HAPPY INSENSIBILITY. In a drear-nighted December Thy branches ne'er remember The north cannot undo them With a sleety whistle through them, In a drear-nighted December But with a sweet forgetting About the frozen time. Ah would 'twere so with many A gentle girl and boy! But were there ever any Was never said in rhyme. J. KEATS 192. Where shall the lover rest Whom the fates sever From his true maiden's breast Parted for ever? Where, through groves deep and high Sounds the far billow, |