The feeble leafs decline, Enshrined in downing deep The mourn abandoned plains, Laid down in sombre sleep Misty shades engulf the sky The bird's song fills the whispering breeze
The lunar pale grim shape At evening's sight renews It's silented wail relieves I hear the lonesome choir These skies I hail and treasure thee, Not pittes thorn I shelter thine
Draw on most pleasant night Shade my lorn exposed sight For my grief's when shadows told Shall be eased in mist enfold Why should the foolish's hope Beneath this pleasent sky? For if the dusking day declined Could delight be far behind?