The Sweets of Evening

The sweets of Evening charm the mind, Sick of the sultry day; The body then no more's confin'd, But exercise with freedom join'd, When Phoebus sheathes his ray.

The softer scenes of nature sooth The organs of our sight; The Zephyrs fan the meadows smooth, And on the brook we build the booth In pastoral delight.

While all-serene the summer moon Sends glances thro' the trees, And Philomel begins her tune, Asteria too shall help her soon With voice of skilful ease.

A nosegay, every thing that grows, And music, every sound To lull the sun to his repose; The skies are coloured like the rose With lively streaks around.

Of all the changes rung by Time None half so sweet appear, As those when thoughts themselves sublime, And with superior natures chime In fancy's highest sphere.