Afternoon

O perfect day,I bid thee stay!Too fast thy glad hours slip awayThe morn, the noon,Have fled too soon—Delay, O golden afternoon!

O peerless Sun,Thou radiant oneWhose dazzling course is half-way run,Stay, stay thy flightDown yon blue height,Nor haste thee to the arms of night!

The west wind blowsO'er beds of rose,But does not stir my deep repose.In dreamful guiseI close mine eyes,Borne on its wings to Paradise.

Beneath this treeHalf consciouslyI share the life of all things free,Hearing the beatOf rhythmic feet,As the grasses run my hand to meet.

The wild bee's hum,The lone bird's drum,O'er the wide pastures faintly come;And soft and clearFalls on my earThe cow-bell's tinkle, far and near!

Before my eyesThree blue peaks rise,Piercing the bright autumnal skies;Silent and grand,On either hand,Far mountain heights majestic stand.

By wreaths of mistThe vales are kissed—Fair, floating clouds of amethyst,That follow on,Through shade and sun,Where'er the river's course may run.

Here, looking downOn roof-trees brown,I catch fair glimpses of the town.There, far away,The shadows playOn crags and bowlders, huge and gray.

All whispering low,The breezes go—The wandering birds flit to and froWinged motes float byMe as I lie,And yellow leaves drop silently.

The morn, the noon,Have fled too soon—Delay, O golden afternoon,While with rapt eyesMy spirit fliesFrom yon blue peaks to Paradise!