The sweets of evening charm the mind,
Sick of the sultry day;
The body then no more confin’d,
But exercise with freedom join’d
When Phoebus sheathes his ray.
While all-serene the summer moon
Sends glances thro’ the trees,
And Philomel begins her tune,
And Asteria too shall help her soon
With the voice of practised ease.
A nosegay, everything that grows,
And music, every sound To lull the sun to his repose;
The skies are coloured like the rose
With lively streaks around.
Of all the changes rung by time
None half so sweet appear,
As those when thoughts themselves sublime,
Evening And with superior natures chime In fancy’s highest sphere. ~