kytar1

When the beautiful star of the West moves on,
A lonely gem, through the fields of air;
When the last faint flush of the sum- light's gone
And no beam but her own are shinning there;
Steal through the shades of the twilight love!
The spell of that gentlest hour to prove.

I sinks on the spirit like some sweet balm,
Shed o'er us from brighter, and happier spheres;
And in suffering bosoms its touching calm
Awakens the source of delicious tears;
While dark and passionate thoughts, to rest
Are hush'd in the haughty, and erring beast.