After Sunset

by Harriet Monroe

Harriet Monroe

The forest was a shrine for her,
A temple richly dressed;
And worshippers the tall trees were,
Each to his prayer addressed.
Scarce dared I lift my eyes, or stir,
So deeply was I blessed.
She took to herself the waning day
Like a round twilight moon,
Serenely rising far away-
A silvery moon of June,
That whiter than the morning is
And fairer than the noon.
The dim world darkened round her-all
Was night save where she shone,
Save where she stood so slim and small
The shadowed earth upon;
As though the earth were new, and she
Would light its fires anon.

Last updated January 14, 2019