Eliza Acton

 Next Poem          

When the beautiful star of the West moves on,
A lonely gem, through the fields of air;
When the last faint flush of the sun-light's gone
And no beams but her own are shining there;
Steal through the shades of the twilight love!
The spell of that gentlest hour to prove.

It sinks on the spirit like some sweet balm,
Shed o'er us from brighter, and happier spheres;
And in suffering bosoms its touching calm
Awakens the source of delicious tears;
While dark and passionate thoughts, to rest
Are hush'd in the haughty, and erring breast.

Next Poem 

 Back to Eliza Acton
Get a free collection of Classic Poetry and subscribe to My Poetic Side ↓

Receive the ebook in seconds 50 poems from 50 different authors Weekly news

To be able to leave a comment here you must be registered. Log in or Sign up.