Sonnet Xiv. To The Evening. Poem by John Codrington Bampfylde

What numerous votaries 'neath thy shadowy wing,
O mild and modest Evening, find delight!
First to the Grove, his lingering Fair to bring,
The warm and youthful Lover, hating light,
Sighs oft for thee.--And next the boisterous string
Of school--imps freed from Dame's all--dreaded sight,
Round Village--Cross, in many a wanton ring,
Wishes thy stay.--Then too with vasty might,
From Steeple's side to urge the bounding ball,
The lusty hinds await thy fragrant call.
I, friend to all by turns, am join'd with all.
Lover, and Elfin gay, and harmless hind;
Nor heed the proud, to real wisdom blind,
So as my heart be pure, and free my mind.