Twilight's soft dews steal o'er the village-green,
With magic tints to harmonize the scene.
Stilled is the read more

Twilight's soft dews steal o'er the village-green,
With magic tints to harmonize the scene.
Stilled is the hum that through the hamlet broke
When round the ruins of their ancient oak
The peasants flocked to hear the minstrel play,
And games and carols closed the busy day.

The west is broken into bars
Of orange, gold, and gray;
Gone is the sun, come are read more

The west is broken into bars
Of orange, gold, and gray;
Gone is the sun, come are the stars,
And night infolds the day.

Dim eclipse, disastrous twilight.

Dim eclipse, disastrous twilight.

. . . th' approach of night
The skies yet blushing with departing light,
When falling dews read more

. . . th' approach of night
The skies yet blushing with departing light,
When falling dews with spangles deck'd the glade,
And the low sun had lengthen'd ev'ry shade.

She bids you on the wanton rushes lay you down
And rest your gentle head upon her lap,
read more

She bids you on the wanton rushes lay you down
And rest your gentle head upon her lap,
And she will sing the song that pleaseth you
And on your eyelids crown the god of sleep,
Charming your brood with pleasing heaviness,
Making such difference 'twixt wake and sleep
As is the difference betwixt day and night
The hour before the heavenly-harnessed team
Begins his golden progress in the east.

The gloaming comes, the day is spent,
The sun goes out of sight,
And painted is the read more

The gloaming comes, the day is spent,
The sun goes out of sight,
And painted is the occident
With purple sanguine bright.

From that high mount of God whence light and shade
Spring both, the face of brightest heaven had changed
read more

From that high mount of God whence light and shade
Spring both, the face of brightest heaven had changed
To grateful twilight.

The summer day is closed, the sun is set:
Well they have done their office, those bright hours,
read more

The summer day is closed, the sun is set:
Well they have done their office, those bright hours,
The latest of whose train goes softly out
In the red west.

Our lady of the twilight
She hath such gentle hands,
So lovely are the gifts she brings
read more

Our lady of the twilight
She hath such gentle hands,
So lovely are the gifts she brings
From out of the sunset-lands,
So bountiful, so merciful,
So sweet of soul is she;
And over all the world she draws
Her cloak of charity.