When the ploughman leaves the task of day,
And, trudging homeward, whistles on the way;
When the big-uddered cows with patience stand,
Waiting the strokings of the damsel's hand;
No warbling cheers the woods; the feathered choir,
To court kind slumbers, to their sprays retire;
When no rude gale disturbs the sleeping trees,
Nor aspen leaves confess the gentlest breeze;
Engaged in thought, to Neptune's bounds I stray,
To take my farewell of the parting day:
Far in the deep the sun his glory hides,
A streak of gold the sea and sky divides;
The purple clouds their amber linings show,
And edged with flame rolls every wave below;
Here pensive I behold the fading light,
And o'er the distant billows lose my sight.