V

When Evening's dusky car Crown'd with her dewy star Steals o'er the fading sky in shadowy flight; On leaves of aspen trees We tremble to the breeze Veil'd from the grosser ken of mortal sight. Or, haply, at the visionary hour, Along our wildly-bower'd sequester'd walk, We listen to the enamour'd rustic's talk; Heave with the heavings of the maiden's breast, Where young-eyed Loves have hid their turtle nest; Or guide of soul-subduing power The glance that from the half-confessing eye Darts the fond question or the soft reply.