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THE evening time is holy;
I sail a boundless sea
Sacred to melancholy,
And wondrous things I see.
The moon shone with a quiet grace;
I gazed into the moon.
The moon shone full upon my face;
I fell into a swoon.
A lovely form was in the air,
I knew it there how soon!
I seemed to see my love's bright hair
Streaming against the moon,
My love's bright eyes so sparkling fair
That shame the stars to gloom,
And her bosom white that may compare
With the lily's purest bloom.
But ah! that rose of Paradise,
Her lip, so full and red,
Grows pale in the evening light and dies,
And a pearly whiteness shed
Over her face seems like a pall.
And how the angels' chime
Comes through the air with a rippling fall
From heaven, soft and sublime.
And now they bear my love away
Up heaven's eternal stair;
And leave me to dream my life away,
To sleep - and find her there.
B. W. W.
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