Slow the orb of day's declining
In his golden beauty dressed,
While the fleecy clouds at evening
Linger in the glowing west.
Painted by the sun's bright pencils.
In their radiant beauty shine;
Pencils tipped with golden sunbeams,
Wielded by a hand divine.
In the vales the twilight lingers.
On the hills the sober gray:
While upon the mountain's summit,
Still the golden sunbeams play.
Slowly fade those scenes of glory.
With the sun's last golden ray;
While the mountains, grand and hoary
Kiss the lingering beams of day.
On the hill the twilight gathers.
Darkness shrouds the y alleys now:
While the gray a moment glimmers
On the rugged mountain's brow.
Softly fall the shades of evening,
Over mountain, hill and plain;
While the gloom that round us gathers,
Whispers night has come again.