Tis Come!--The Last Pale Ev'Ning-Close

'TIS come!--the last pale ev'ning-close Whose shade shall sink around me here; And unto me its deep repose, Brings many a wildly-gushing tear. Nay, let me dash the drops away, Which thus, in idle sorrow shed, A soul un nerv'd, unstrung, betray ,-- Which droops--nor will be comforted. My quiet home, farewell!--I go Forth to the cold bleak world again, A wanderer mid its scenes of woe, To seek for sheltering peace in vain. Oh! long my heart will warmly cling To thee, as to some hallow'd spot, Where falshood's deadly withering, And life's stern storms were all forgot. And some short moments wing'd with bliss, Pass'd o'er my spirit, like a tone Of the air-harp, when night-winds kiss Its chords, to music wild and lone. My cherish'd home a long farewell! The pangs which on my bosom press, As on that word I ling'ring dwell Are rous'd to keenest wretchedness!