Here you will find thePoemEvening In Summerof poet James Thomson
Confess'd from yonder slow-extinguish'd clouds, All ether softening, sober Evening takes Her wonted station in the middle air; She sends on earth; then that of deeper dye Steals soft behind; and then a deeper still, In circle following circle, gathers round, To close the face of things. A fresher gale Begins to wave the wood, and stir the stream, Sweeping with shadowy gust the fields of corn; While the quail clamours for his running mate. Wide o'er the thistly lawn, as swells the breeze, A whitening shower of vegetable down Amusive floats. The kind impartial care Of Nature nought disdains: thoughtful to feed Her lowest songs, and clothe the coming year, From field to field the feather'd seed she wings. Among the crooked lanes, on every hedge, The glowworm lights his gem; and through the dark A moving radiance twinkles. Evening yields The world to Night; not in her winter robe Of massy Stygian woof, but loose array'd In mantle dun. A faint erroneous ray, Glanced from th' imperfect surfaces of things, Flings half an image on the straining eye; While wavering woods, and villages, and streams, And rocks, and mountain tops, that long retain'd Th' ascending gleam, are all one swimming scene, Uncertain if beheld.
