A July Evening

 

As quiet steals upon the hill,

And daily clamours from you fly,

Of gentle twilight seek your fill,

And round you wrap a warm July.

 

Where in the meadows hares at sport,

Snatch at a sound and then are gone,

When all your troubles come to naught,

As natures many blend to one.

 

Where streams reflect the evening star,

And hold its light when all is still,

Should nothing hurt and nothing jar,

And nothing stay creations will.

 

When blue black night caresses all,

And scented air fills every glade,

Who can resist the ancient call,

Of which a summer night is made.