The Evening Rest, by Mary Dow Brine

The Evening Rest

Oh! Welcome hour when, labor o'er,
The laborer seeks his home once more;
The twilight hour, so doubly blest,
Which brings to man and beast the rest
So truly earned throughout the day,
Now passing with its toils away.   the laborer's wife, with face made sweet
By loving watch, his fond eyes meet
Beside the cottage door; the while
He smiles response to baby's smile;
And, ere he seeks his own repose,
With Dobbin to the manger goes.   And echoes of the vesper bell
On the sweet breezes rise and swell,
And seem to speak of love and peace,
Bidding the long day's turmoil cease.
And presently the twilight dies
Beneath the quiet starlight skies.

poems.one - Mary Dow Brine