The evening sun was sinking down
⁠On low green hills and clustered trees;
It was a scene as fair and lone
⁠As ever felt the soothing breeze

That cools the grass when day is gone,
⁠And gives the waves a brighter blue,
And marks the soft white clouds sail on
⁠Like spirits of ethereal dew;

Which all the morn had hovered o'er
⁠The azure flowers where they were nursed,
And now return to Heaven once more,
⁠Where their bright glories shone at first.

September 23, 1836.