To the Evening

What numerous tribes beneath thy shadowy wing,
O mild and modest evening, find delight!
First, to the grove his lingering fair to bring,
The warm and youthful lover, hating light,
Sighs oft for thee. And next, the boisterous string
Of school-imps, freed from dame's all-dreaded sight,
Round village cross in many a wanton ring
Wishes thy stay. Then too with vasty might
From steeple's side to urge the bounding ball,
The lusty hinds await thy fragrant call.
I, general friend, by turns am joined with all,
Lover, and elfin gay, and harmless hind;
Nor heed the proud, to real wisdom blind,
So as my heart be pure, and free my mind.

John Bampfylde (1754-1796)

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2013 Selected Poetry
The Poets Garret
Tir Na nOg Poetry Community