Evening came; the tired earth had dropped asleep

Evening came; the tired earth had dropped asleep, Born the Maytide night in silence calm and deep, Bright in azure vault of heaven the twinkling stars Vigils kept, as lover over his beloved. Only one sound the twilight stillness broke upon, Crooning of Indian mother to her babe. Fainter grew the mother-song, and died away; Then, as if inspired by oft-repeated strain, Suddenly a mocking-bird took up refrain— New World nightingale whose joyous warbling thrills Hearts responsive to the clear, melodious trills. Did the music fall upon unheeding ears Of the Indian hunters as they slumbering lay? Rather in their dreams those forest natives heard Echoes of the warrior's triumphant song In that hunting-ground where sings the deathless bird.