Nightfall's soft glow steals o'er the hamlet green, with magic hues to unify the scene. Stilled is the whir that thru the village broke, when round the relics of the old oak, the serfs flocked to hear the harper play, and festivities & joyful hymns closed the busy day. She lies at rest, the matron who delights no more, with cherished fables & legendary lore. All have departed; neither glee nor music flows, to pursue the dreams of chaste repose. All have departed; yet still I idle here! What mysterious charms this quiet spot does endear! Bespeak yon ancient manor scowling thru the trees, whose hollow crown is caressed by the breeze. That casement curved with ivy's greenest shade, first to these eyes, the light above conveyed. The dissecting gateway spreads the grassy court, once the peaceful scene of many a light sport, when all things charmed, for life itself was new, and the heart promised none to be harmed, by what imagination drew.