Softly fades the golden sunlight
From the valley and the hill;
Softly dies the wind of Summer—
All the leaves are still;
And the dusky twilight, floating
From the sunset's purple bars,
Sows the boundless field of heaven
Thick with golden stars.
Thus, whene'er I leave thee, dearest,
Fades from me the joyous light
That, when in thy charmed presence,
Makes my soul so bright.
Thus, too, mem'ry, like the twilight,
Brings a holy calm to me,
Sowing o'er my spirit's darkness
Star-bright thoughts of thee.