Page:Poems of Sentiment and Imagination.djvu/113

Rh With remnants which the sunset glories leave,

Woven with fancies of a duskier dye.

The fair soft twilight, when the maiden steals

To the deep shadow of some garden tree;

And to the silence her young heart reveals,

Breathing her dreams in pleasant reverie.

The tender twilight, when the soul yields up

Its love and sweetness like a rich perfume,

Filling with tenderness—as fills the cup

Of the night-flowers with dew drawn from their bloom.

The twilight hour, that stores the poet's heart

With fine conceptions of all loveliness;

That stirs him with a love from day apart,

Full of high spiritual thought and holiness.

EIGHT.