Verse

Thomas Moore:

How dear to me the hour when daylight dies,
   And sunbeams melt along the silent sea,
For the sweet dreams of other days arise,
   And memory breathes her vesper sigh to thee.

And, as I watch the line of light, that plays
   Along the smooth wave tow’rd the burning west,
I long to tread that golden path of rays,
   And think ‘twould lead to some bright isle of rest.