Twilight
By Olive Custance
Mother of the dews, dark eyelashed Twilight !
Low-iidded Twilight o'er the valley's brim.
MEREDITH.
rys PIRIT of Twilight, through your folded wings
I catch a glimpse of your averted face,
And rapturous on a sudden, my soul sings
" Is not this common earth a holy place ? "
Spirit of Twilight, you are like a song
That sleeps, and waits a singer, like a hymn
That God hnds lovely and keeps near Him long,
Till it is choired by aureoled cherubim.
Spirit of Twilight, in the golden gloom
Of dreamland dim I sought you, and I found
A woman sitting in a silent room
Full of white dowers that moved and made no sound.
These
By Olive Custance
Mother of the dews, dark eyelashed Twilight !
Low-iidded Twilight o'er the valley's brim.
MEREDITH.
rys PIRIT of Twilight, through your folded wings
I catch a glimpse of your averted face,
And rapturous on a sudden, my soul sings
" Is not this common earth a holy place ? "
Spirit of Twilight, you are like a song
That sleeps, and waits a singer, like a hymn
That God hnds lovely and keeps near Him long,
Till it is choired by aureoled cherubim.
Spirit of Twilight, in the golden gloom
Of dreamland dim I sought you, and I found
A woman sitting in a silent room
Full of white dowers that moved and made no sound.
These