Evening

The evening darkens over 
After a day so bright, 
The windcapt waves discover
That wild will be the night. 
There's sound of distant thunder.

The latest sea-birds hover 
Along the cliff's sheer height;
As in the memory wander 
Last flutterings of delight,
White wings lost on the white.

There's not a ship in sight; 
And as the sun goes under, 
Thick clouds conspire to cover 
The moon that should rise yonder. 
Thou art alone, fond lover.

RoBeRT BRiDGeS

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