| Now twilight draws her shadowy curtain round, |
| And all the landscape wears a softer hue, |
| As if in grief; and e'en the plaintive sound |
| Of some lone bird, who carols an adieu |
| 5 To parting day's last lingering tint of blue -- |
| All touch the heart, awakening pensive thought, |
| And bring the absent or the dead to view |
| In colours fresh, by faithful memory wrought, |
| As if to cheat us with their forms she sought. |
| 10 And can it be, that those so cherish'd here, |
| Who shared our pleasures -- more than shared our pain; |
| Whose accents still dwell in th'accustom'd
ear, |
| To whom affection never spoke in vain –- |
| Shall never -- never bless our sight again! |
| 15 Ah! ye who know what 'tis the loved to mourn, |
| And see each link in fond affection's chain, |
| That bound united hearts, so rudely torn, |
| And still live on -- ye know what I have borne! |
|
