This glorious sunset I behold,

This lovely closing scene of day,

The western sky embathed in gold,

The calm, low murmurings that play

Upon the quiet ear of eve;—

Yon fields, in waving beauty spread,

The summer-rose now paling here,

The sunflower’s gently drooping head,

Proclaim the day, the hour near,

O’er which, for aye, I vainly grieve!

No more the rapture now, that grew

Within our hearts, pale sleeping one!

While dwelling on that gorgeous view

Unfolded by the setting sun—

No more thy loved, thy lonely flowers

Will bend to kiss the gentle hand

Outstretched to train their heavenward bloom;

No more that angel form will stand

Beside me, in the twilight gloom,

To light with love my darkened hours!