EVENING ON THE LAKE.
Reading edition
Upon the mountain-top the purple tints Fade into mist; and the rich golden glow Of the low-setting sun sinks to a gray Subdued and tender. Home the eagle hies, Swift, to his eyrie, his broad pinions stretched, Bearing him onwards, seeming motionless The while with rapid wing he cleaves the air, As ship the waters: now the grousecock crows On heathered knoll his vesper lullaby To his dear mate. And from the silver lake, Cradled in mountain-setting, echoing comes, With rippling music on the air, the plash Of dipping oars; and voices deep and low, Mingled with women’s trebles, tuneful break The evening silence! Grand indeed it is To be amid these mountain solitudes; And yet there is a sense of rest and calm, Soothing the spirit—stealing o’er the heart Like the soft notes of an Æolian harp, Falling like balm upon the troubled soul, And making the most worldly man to feel That there is over earth a higher heaven!
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