Let sunset shed its radiant calm
⁠The summer fields and woods among,
Let evening blessings bring their balm,
⁠While I breathe forth my parting song.
Sink, thou bright sun, and sink, the day
Of this my mortal life, away.
Flow, river, onwards to the sea;
Time's stream, farewell! I drift o'er thee
Unto the longed-for goal where I would be,
⁠⁠⁠⁠Eternity.

Farewell, O brook, whose music sweet,
⁠In low-toned rippling melody.
My listening ear did ofttimes greet,
⁠Blent with the shadowing trees' soft sigh.
Ye dragon-flies with armour blue.
Or clad in green and glittering hue,
Darting about like sunny rays.
Enjoy your few ephemeral days.
But let me hasten where the true sun's blaze
⁠⁠⁠⁠Pierces life's haze.

Sink, sun, nor pause on yon far hill;
⁠To-morrow morning shalt thou rise
And shine on meadow, mount, and rill.
⁠And gladden living hearts and eyes.
To-morrow eve thy parting beam
May ruddy o'er the landscape gleam,
Lingering the leaves and flowers among,
Like echoes of a closed song.
But now no more my life's last day prolong,
⁠⁠⁠⁠Or this my song.

She heard it first, and it was first of May,
May in the morning and the south wind blew,
All the land in blossom, all the leaves at play.
Young love must blossom too.
⁠⁠⁠Fain, fain, would he —
Shyly lookt at her who shyly lookt away,
⁠⁠⁠"Hark, hark," quoth she —
⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠"Cuckoo!"

A little wood in June, and full of song;
Daytime deliciousness and deep "who-who"
Of nightingales; and blackbirds' proud and strong
"Io, Io," when they woo;
⁠⁠⁠And "Marguerite,
Marguerite," of constant thrush in love so long;
⁠⁠⁠And clear and sweet,
⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠"Cuckoo!"

Then heart to heart the happy lovers heard
Only their joy in all the blithe ado;
Dumb joy that every loud triumphant bird
And low-voiced ringdove knew:
⁠⁠⁠And for its sake
An elfin dance of light and shadow stirr'd.
⁠⁠⁠And of it spake
⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠"Cuckoo!"

First of July, and fading last of days
That rose-like live, and fade, but not renew;
Then heart to heart they heard the dusking ways
Break out and sob adieu:
⁠⁠⁠"Cuckoo, cuckoo,"
Adieu, "cuckoo," I go, joy goes, hope stays,
⁠⁠⁠"Cuckoo," adieu,
⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠"Cuckoo."

"Did ye mark when the maiden was hurled?
⁠Did ye listen the horrible splash?
And, after this rage of the world.
⁠Can ye hear now the cold water plash
About her? and see ye afar the dim sun
Setting sickly and wan at the deed that is done?"

I heard: but I now do not hear!
⁠For I listen an infinite song.
Which is all in sweet tune on my ear
⁠With the waves as they bear her along —
'Tis of joy! and yon light is no vision forlorn —
'Tis an omen, but less of the night than the morn!

This daughter of God hath been proved.
⁠And what now, if so cast to the waves,
For awhile, for His sake, whom she loved,
⁠I' this wilderness-water of graves.
She sojourns? awaiting the beautiful hour
When He comes with His kingdom and glory and power?

'Tis her body so sojourns! her soul.
⁠Blessed ghost! hath sped over the stream;
And see, as the dark waters roll.
⁠They bear on their bosom a gleam
Of her Eden — the shore where, secure from her woes.
Her sweet spirit abides in its happy repose!

Let me live in such faith! let me die
⁠Such a death! let such music and light —
The glad song of the choirs of the sky.
⁠The bright gleam of such robes washen white —
Mark mine end! and, like hers, let my body be borne
⁠Down the river of night to the seas of the morn!