ALONE at Twilight's shadowy hour,
I touch the plaintive lay;
And all resign'd to music's pow'r,
My soul dissolves away
In visions soft as vernal show'rs,
And wild and sweet as mountain flow'rs.
Then memory's pictures mild and clear,
Like moonlight scenes arise:
And images to fancy dear
Awake affection's sighs;
While Hope her angel smile displays,
And tells of bright enchanting days.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem