Evening In Autumn
The western sun withdrawn the shorten'd day,
And humid evening, gliding o'er the
In her chill progress, to the ground
The vapours throws.
Where creeping waters ooze,
Where marshes stagnate, and where rivers wind,
Cluster the rolling fogs, and swim
The dusky-mantled lawn.
Meanwhile the moon,
Full-orb'd, and breaking through the scatter'd clouds,
Shews her broad visage in the crimson east.
Turn'd to the sun direct, her spotted disk,
Where mountains rise, umbrageous dales descend,
And caverns deep, as optic tube descries,
A smaller earth, gives us his blaze again,
Void of its flame, and sheds a softer day.
Now through the passing cloud she seems to stoop,
Now up the pure cerulean rides sublime.
Wide the pale deluge floats, and streaming mildO'er the skied mountain to the shadowy vale,
While rocks and floods reflect the quivering gleam,
The whole air whitens with a boundless
Of silver radiance, trembling round the world.
James Thomson
Other author posts
Reflections Suggested By Winter
'Tis done dread winter spreads its latest glooms, And reigns tremendous o'er the conquer'd year How dead the vegetable kingdom lies
Sheep-Sheering
In one diffusive band, They drive the troubled flocks, by many a Compell'd to where the mazy-running Forms a deep pool; this bank abrupt and high,
Scene Between May and June
In lowly dale, fast by a river's side, With woody hill o'er hill encompass'd round, A most enchanting wizard did abide, Than whom a fiend more fell is nowhere found
Epilogue to Agamemnon
Our bard, to modern epilogue a foe, Thinks such mean mirth but deadens generous woe; Dispels in idle air the moral sigh, And wipes the tender tear from Pity's eye: