html.skin-theme-clientpref-night @media(prefers-color-scheme:dark){html.skin-theme-clientpref-os }WEET hour of eve, calm golden skies,
Dear are ye still to me;
Voiceless the earth in slumber lies,
Silent the heaving sea:
Bright as yon sunset, fancy's power
Weaves now her flowery chain;
Calm as the twilight's mournful hour,
Fond memory wakes again.
Who but must feel the dying day
Breathes forth a magic tone,
Touching to life scenes passed away,
Bright visions wept and gone?
And as the dreams of early years
Rise bright on memory's wing,
I live again the smiles and tears
Time never more can bring.
Friends of my youth, this stilly hour,
Fair nature's Sabbath time,
Calls back to life, with magic power,
Our morning hour of prime!
Some lowly sleep, some roam afar,
But, dearly loved as then,
Ye rise like yonder dawning star,
Bright clothed with life again,
E.