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green to gold, from gold to amethyst,
 * Transmuted by the sun's last lingering ray,
 * The tranquil hills in dreaming silence lay,

Wrought to a beauty eye could not resist; Till, folded in with veils of purple mist
 * That slowly wrapt them from reluctant day,
 * They mingled with the dusk and flowed away,

Renewing with the stars their nightly tryst.

And as the soft enchantments round us spread,
 * And twilight with its pensive shadows fell—

Loosed from the prison-wards of care and dread,
 * Lured from our selfish griefs by beauty's spell—

Along dim thoroughfares our thoughts were led
 * To haunts of peace where love and silence dwell.