The noontide showers have drifted past.
The sunset's on the hill,
The lights be gleaming through the dusk,
Adown by Clincher's Mill.
It's such a pretty evening, maid.
All quiet-hke, and blue ;
With here and there a darksome cloud
That lets the silver through.
The folk be all in Sunday best,
I see'd 'em passing by ;
Then come along the quiet lane.
And walk a bit with I.
One Evening Near Nice
Pale depth of sky, serene and wonderful,
Within whose fold the lamps of early stars
Shine far away and faintly luminous ;
Whose pensive tones merge from the afterglow
Into this colour indescribable ;
This blending of the sea and earth and clouds.
Soft and yet poignant, passionate yet calm.
I know not what the spirit in me feels,
When it beholds thee through my human eyes
Nor what strange craving for forgotten things
Has stirred my soul to this disquietude !