July 12, 1888.
When lingering Day at last recedes from sight,
And Night comes slowly forth to fill her place,
Preceded by a twilight-hour's loved face
Reflecting glorious rays of sunset light,
'Tis then my thoughts go wandering with delight
Through oft-frequented avenues of space
To those dear souls—the dearest of the race—
Who've dwelt with me on friendship's purest height.
From this old mountain-top I come to you,
My large souled trusted friend of many a year,
With birthday greetings of the roseate hue
Left by a perfect Day just lingering here.
Oh, may life's twilight hold a peace as true,
And be as filled with hope of dawn's sweet cheer!
Mount Wachusett, Mass.