| |
| THE CALM of eve is round thee now, | |
| Old Townstal! with its floods of gold; | |
| That shed a glory round thy brow, | |
| Like that around the saints of old. | |
| The purple shades beneath thee creep, | 5 |
| The cloudless sky shines overhead; | |
| The river wanders calm and deep, | |
| And hills of gold afar outspread. | |
| |
| O, let me pause awhile, and think: | |
| Such soul-born feelings of repose— | 10 |
| That to the past the present link— | |
| Steal o’er me as the daybeams close; | |
| The heart-chords swelling send the while | |
| Their sacred music through the soul, | |
| As through thy old and hallowed aisle | 15 |
| The chant of praise is wont to roll. | |
| |
| O for a life of hours like this! | |
| To cast aside the anxious fear— | |
| The struggle and the toil—for peace | |
| Like this which reigns around me here; | 20 |
| To let the free soul soar away, | |
| Like winds that o’er thy turret climb, | |
| And bid the wandering fancy stray | |
| Mid memories of olden time. | |
| |
| That olden time comes back once more,— | 25 |
| The time when thy gray walls were young, | |
| When hallowed feet first trod thy floor, | |
| When midnight masses first were sung, | |
| When erring souls with trembling sigh | |
| First dropped the penitential tear, | 30 |
| And fervent prayers went up on high, | |
| In mingled tones of hope and fear. | |
| |
| A silent awe is on my soul, | |
| To think what vigils thou must keep, | |
| When nightly stars above thee roll, | 35 |
| And all wide earth and ocean sleep; | |
| Those countless stars, to whom is given | |
| That inextinguishable glow | |
| Which marks the truth of God in heaven, | |
| As thou upon the earth below. | 40 |
| |
| Thy sunlit tower is all so bright, | |
| I do not care to gaze below, | |
| Where sleep the dead in endless night, | |
| Beneath the turf where daisies grow. | |
| But yet their souls are bright above, | 45 |
| Yes, brighter than this evening hour; | |
| And beauteous in those realms of love, | |
| As air-gold on thy shining tower. | |
| |
| The latest beam is lingering still | |
| Upon thy topmost crumbling stone; | 50 |
| It fades beyond the western hill, | |
| And leaves thee to the night alone. | |
| The light, too, passes from my mind, | |
| But leaves, ere yet its beams depart, | |
| Another joy in memory shrined, | 55 |
| Another lesson on the heart. | |
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