Evening Poem by Charlotte Dacre

A DESCRIPTIVE PIECE.


NOW Sol, behind the mountain,
Withdraws his golden rays,
That, lingering on yon fountain,
Displays a liquid blaze.

With curious colours tainted,
The slippery rocks are seen,
By Nature's soft hand painted,
In azure, red, and green.

Yon mountain top, aspiring,
To reach bright Heaven tries;
A purple tint acquiring
From evening's vivid skies.

And now his toil suspending,
The labourer quits the field;
And lo! the dews descending,
Their sweetest fragrance yield.

The fleecy lambs reclining
Supine on yonder steep;
His sportive care resigning,
The shepherd wrapt in sleep.

Now to the sea extending,
Sol throws his sinking rays,
While o'er the ocean bending,
The drooping willow plays.

The glowing prospect fading
As deepening dusk succeeds,
And darkness slow invading,
It gradually recedes.