noon
In one of my mother 's books which I brought with me , I have read a pretty piece . It is in poetry ; and it is so like what I have been thinking of you , that I have learnt it off by heart . It is so true-like and so pretty a piece that I thought you might like to read it , and hoping it may please you , I write it at the end of my letter , which I fear I have already made too long ; but I hope you will have patience to read it all , and then read the poetry : -- `` I think of thee when Morning springs From sleep with plumage bathed in dew ; And like a young bird lifts her wings Of gladness on the welkin blue . And when at noon the breath of love O'er flower and stream is wandering free , And sent in music from the grove -- I think of thee -- I think of thee ! `` I think of thee , when soft and wide The Evening spreads her robe of light , And like a young and timid bride , Sits blushing in the arms of Night . And when the moon 's sweet crescent springs In light or heaven 's deep , waveless sea , And stars are forth like blessed things -- I think of thee -- I think of thee ! `` O sir !