Evening Harmony

  The hour approacheth, when, as their stems incline,
  The flowers evaporate like an incense urn,
  And sounds and scents in the vesper breezes turn;
  A melancholy waltz—and a drowsiness divine.

  The flowers evaporate like an incense urn,
  The viol vibrates like the wailing of souls that repine.
  A melancholy waltz—and a drowsiness divine,
  The skies like a mosque are beautiful and stern.

  The viol vibrates like the wailing of souls that repine;
  Sweet souls that shrink from chaos vast and etern,
  The skies like a mosque are beautiful and stern,
  The sunset drowns within its blood-red brine.

  Sweet souls that shrink from chaos vast and etern,
  Essay the wreaths of their faded Past to entwine,
  The sunset drowns within its blood-red brine,
  Thy thought within me glows like an incense urn.