Evening

O sunset, from the springs of stars, Draw down thy cataracts of gold; And belt their streams with burning bars, Of ruby on which flame is rolled: Drench dingles with laburnum light; Drown every copse in violet blaze: Rain rose-light down; and, poppy-bright, Die downward o'er the hills of haze, And bring at last the stars of night!

The stars and moon! that silver world, That, like a spirit, faces west, Her foam-white feet with light empearled, Bearing white flame within her breast: Earth's sister sphere of fire and snow, Who shows to Earth her heart's pale heat, And bids her see its pulses glow, And hear their crystal currents beat With beauty, lighting all below.

O cricket, with thy elfin pipe, That tinkles in the grass and grain; And dove-pale buds, that, dropping, stripe The glen's blue night, and smell of rain; O nightingale, that so dost wail On yonder branch of blossoming snow, Thrill, fill the wild hart-haunted dale, Where Oriana, walking slow, Approaches thro' the moonlight pale.

She comes to meet me! Earth and air Grow radiant with another light. In her dark eyes and her dark hair Are all the stars and all the night. She comes! I clasp her! and it is As if no grief had ever been. The world takes fire from our kiss.-- There are no other women or men But Oriana and Amadis!