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To Evening

by Danny "Don Juan" Henrey

Hail meek-eyed maiden, clad in sober grey,
Whose soft approach the weary Hoey loves,
As Hampstead-bound in business suit and tie
He waylays children deep in twilit groves.

When Phoebus sinks behind the gilded hills,
You lightly o’er the misty meadows walk,
Where glow-worms light the pixies to their rest,
And grim-fac’d Oakley with a teg does "talk".

The panting dryads, that in day’s fierce heat
To inmost bowers and cooling caverns sped,
Return to trip in wanton evening-dances;
By Toddy, Queen of Faerie, are they led.

The dark’ning vistas cloak the world in blue:
In Graybags’ arms, his Susan quiet lies;
He whispers soft, "My constant love is thine,"
And shews her how the "evening star" doth rise.

From the deep wood the nubile schoolgirls come;
Miss Fi-bum guides the damsels by the mill,
And from the vale and freshly furrow’d field,
Stout ploughmen meet, to molest them on the hill.

Now every passion sleeps; desponding Love,
And pining Envy, ever-restless Pride,
And holy calm creeps o’er my peaceful soul,
As into drunken stupor fast I slide.

O modest Evening, oft let me appear
A wandering votary in thy pensive train;
Gentle philosophy from Thee we learn,
And so I say, ‘Come, fill my glarsh again.’