Генри Кендалл (Henry Kendall)

Early Poems (1859-70). The Earth Laments for Day

There's music wafting on the air,
 The evening winds are sighing
Among the trees—and yonder stream
 Is mournfully replying,
Lamenting loud the sunny light
 That in the west is dying.

The moon is rising o'er the hill,
 Her slanting rays are creeping
Where Nature lies profoundly still
 In happy quiet sleeping,
And resting on her face, they'll find
 The earth is wet with weeping.

She mourneth for the lovely day,
 Now deep in darkness shaded;
She sheds the dewy tear because
 Of morning's mantle faded;
She misses from her breast the garb
 In which the moon array'd it.

The evening queen will strive in vain
 To break the spell which bound her;
A million stars can never throw
 Departed warmth around her;
They all must pass away and leave
 The earth as they had found her.

But why should gentle Nature weep
 That night has overtaken
The wearied world that needed sleep,
 Refreshed to re-awaken,
So richer light might burst around,
 The gloomy shadows breaking?

Oh, can she not from yonder sky
 That gleams above her, borrow
A single ray, or find a way
 To check the tear of sorrow?
A beam of hope would last her till
 The dawning of to-morrow.

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