Day sets in glory, and the glowing air
Seems dreaming in delight; peace reigns around,
Save where some beetle starteth here and there
From the shut flowers that kiss the dewy ground--
A burning ocean, stretching vast and far
The parting banners of the king of light,
Gleam round the temples of each living star
That comes forth in beauty with the night:
The west seems now like some illumined hall,
Where beam a thousand torches in their pride,
As if to light the joyous carnival
Held by the bright sun and his dark-robed bride,
Whose cloudy arms are round his bosom press'd,
As with her thousand eyes she woos him to his rest.
_The African, a Tale._
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