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EVENING SONG OF THE TYROLESE PEASANTS.[1]
Come to the Sun-set Tree!
The day is past and gone;
The woodman's axe lies free,
And the reaper's work is done.
The twilight-star to Heaven,
And the summer-dew to flowers,
And rest to us is given
By the cool soft evening hours.
The day is past and gone;
The woodman's axe lies free,
And the reaper's work is done.
The twilight-star to Heaven,
And the summer-dew to flowers,
And rest to us is given
By the cool soft evening hours.
Sweet is the hour of rest!
Pleasant the wind's low sigh,
And the gleaming of the west,
And the turf whereon we lie;
When the burden and the heat
Of labour's task are o'er,
And kindly voices greet
The tired one at his door.
Pleasant the wind's low sigh,
And the gleaming of the west,
And the turf whereon we lie;
When the burden and the heat
Of labour's task are o'er,
And kindly voices greet
The tired one at his door.
- ↑ "The loved hour of repose is striking. Let us come to the sunset tree."—See Captain Sherer's interesting "Notes and Reflections during a Ramble in Germany".