Evening song

Evening,

thou bringest all that bright morning scattered,

the tender lamb to the ewe,

the babe to its mother;

Then Hesperus shines, of all stars the fairest,

Around the cool breeze

wanders through apple boughs,

And slumber streams from quivering leaves,

While sweeter far than harp,

than gold more golden,

Singeth Spring's messenger

the sweet-voiced nightingale.