’Tis evening, and the clouds hang low,
The rain has fall’n the livelong day,
But in the west there is a ray,
A gentle gleam of evening-glow.
Down are the curtains and the shades,
Where hearts in silence weep and brood,
They nature’s sadness may exclude,
But also that one gleam--which fades.
I would that she might see it now,
That which was once her soul’s delight,
That it could meet her tearful sight,
From o’er the verdant hillock’s brow.
It would, indeed, be rude to say,
To those around the cheerless hearth,
“Arise, and smile, let grief depart,
Forget the clouds which gloomed the day.”
For sorrow, like a swollen stream,
Must have its course, or break its bounds,
And oft its bitterness redounds
To joy, of which we did not dream.
But that sweet sunset seems to say,
“He was a good man, and a just,
“You best can honor him by trust
“In Him who leads us day by day.”
V
The maple and the apple-trees,
Around his home, are blossoming,
There is the hum of insects’ wings,
The droning of the honey-bees.
This is the season, he loved best,--
To labor in his garden-plot,
To prune the trees that flourished not,--
This was to him a pleasant rest.
For he from youth was nature’s child,
He loved unfeigned simplicity,
He found it in the field and tree,
In bird and beast, the tame and wild.
He found it in the “common” folk,
He loved them, they loved him again,
He was the poor and needy’s friend,
His feeding tramps became a joke.
For it is told, both near and far,
How he the tramp led to his board,
To all the best it could afford,
Then offered him a choice cigar.
Forgive a smile amid the tear,
The simple hearts will understand,
And bless the kind, unstinted hand,
Which gave to them new hope and cheer.
The apple trees send out their sweet,
The purple pomp of maples droop,
They stand alone, they stand in group,
And wait in vain their lord to greet.