Page:Ambarvalia - Clough (1849).djvu/122



walks by day the peaceful Eve? In Heaven's own gardens, believe, She gathers the delight Which, hoarded up from hour to hour In her sweet breast, the faithful Power Brings down to earth at night.

Come, gentle Eve! She will not hear: The distant fields are bold and clear, Though from the sultry west The clouds their progress have begun, And with poised orb the crimson sun Is waiting for his rest.

She heard—she comes!—anear, afar! Already her first twinkling star Is caught among the trees; And odours which the day confined Are loading with a grateful mind Her liberating breeze.