Page:Poems of nature, Thoreau, 1895.djvu/58

34 It was a summer eve,

The air did gently heave

While yet a low-hung cloud

Thy eastern skies did shroud;

The lightning's silent gleam,

Startling my drowsy dream,

Seemed like the flash

Under thy dark eyelash.

From yonder comes the sun,

But soon his course is run,

Rising to trivial day

Along his dusty way;

But thy noontide completes

Only auroral heats,

Nor ever sets,

To hasten vain regrets.