ON evening's bosom snowy cloudlets weave, Light fantasies the veil of night shall hide. The wraiths of spectral cares that softly glide In silentness, and plaintive sighs that heave From those who have no strength to loudly grieve, Are hushed; and in an ecstasy of pride, The soul of rest and stillness glorified. Welcome the beauty of the Sabbath Eve! Peace folds the soul, as petals fold a flower, Hushed in sweet slumbers with night's darkened spell, The bride has entered in her lovely bower, Where love entrenched in radiance doth dwell, And decked in sweetness, purity and truth, We greet her in her everlasting youth. |