by Patience Worth
Twilight. Long shadows stretch
Their stealthy fingers wood-ward.
Soft tolls the bell which marks the vesper hour.
Mist-veiled, the hillocks lift
Their heads 'gainst the silver sky.
The fretful stars pulse their rhythmic lay
Of Silence to the coming night.
Lend me then the magic gossamer
Of memory that I may retire thus;
Becoming a part of the day which kneels
Before the altar of the night.
Let me for an instant through
Those magic folds behold my sorrows veiled,
And my joys a little dimmed; thus toning
My soul with that sweet silentful instant-
E'er Night bends down and sayeth: "Sleep."
Last updated January 14, 2019