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      Calm is the evening. Not a ripple stirs
The crystal waters of yon limpid stream,
That blushes deep beneath the last bright ray
The sun has left at parting, and which throws
A lovely radiance round. Not e'en the breeze
Ruffles a moment one pure tranquil wave,
But breathes soft whisp'ring music through the woods,
Bending the flowers on the mossy shores,
And graceful willows o'er the silent brooks,
To bathe in coolness there. Afar the hills,
Are glowing in the sunshine; while below
O'er the low valley gentle evening casts
Her veil of pensive shades. I love this hour
Of melancholy calmness, for my heart
Hath sympathy from nature. O I feel
No more my spirit's loneliness; no more
I sigh for draughts to fill the longing mind,
The bosom's emptiness. My spirit soars,
And seems to roam 'mid nature's loveliness,
And in her beauties and her stillness finds
Mysterious happiness. The gentle air,
Laden with odor from the sylvan groves,
Breathes bliss around me, and its low sweet voice
Seems the soft whisperings of joy to soothe
The weary heart; and softly peace descends,
Lulls to repose the ruffled waves of grief,
Casts to oblivion every earthly thought,
Making fair Nature's solitudes appear
Fraught with some bliss of heaven, for we feel
The presence of Jehovah! His power is seen,
His works proclaim him, and his voice is heard
In nature's harmonies.

Christian Poetry by Augusta Baldwyn
Public Domain