Samuel Waddington, comp. The Sonnets of Europe. 1888.
Night-fallJoaõ Xavier de Matos
Translated by Richard Garnett
T
The lingering daylight slowly dies away,
And Night’s dark fingers have already strewed
The air with cheerless clouds, opaque and gray;
And scarce discern I where my cottage stands,
And scarce the beech from rueful cypress know;
’Tis silence all, save that upon the sands
The distant waters moan and murmur low.
Languid I scan the wastes of dreary air,
A deadly grief sits heavy on my soul,
Unbidden tears hang quivering in my eyes,
And I could pray, if I might breathe a prayer,
That night’s dull car might never cease to roll,
And sunbeam never more illume the skies.