From: The Dial, Vol. I, No. II (Oct. 1840)
Author:
Published: Weeks Jordan and Company 1840 Boston
A SMALL brook murmurs with a silver tone,EVENING.
An echo to the wind that softly sighs;
The birds into their moonlit nests have flown;
Through dews the flowers look up with tearful eyes.
Beautiful trees wave gently in that wood,
The moonlight stealeth in among the boughs.
Let no vain step within those aisles intrude,
It is a holy place, and full of heavenly vows.Z.
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