Caroling Dusk/Solace

by Clarissa Scott Delany

For works with similar titles, see Solace.

SOLACE

My window opens out into the treesAnd in that small spaceOf branches and of skyI see the seasons passBehold the tender greenGive way to darker heavier leaves.The glory of the autumn comesWhen steeped in mellow sunlightThe fragile, golden leavesAgainst a clear blue skyLinger in the magic of the afternoonAnd then reluctantly break offAnd filter down to paveA street with gold.Then bare, gray branchesLift themselves against theCold December skySometimes weaving a webAcross the rose and dusk of late sunsetSometimes against a frail new moonAnd one bright star ridingA sky of that dark, living blueWhich comes before the heavinessOf night descends, or the starsHave powdered the heavens.Winds beat against these trees;The cold, but gentle rain of spring Touches them lightlyThe summer torrents striveTo lash them into a furyAnd seek to break them—But they stand.My life is feveredAnd a restlessness at timesAn agony—again a vagueAnd baffling discontentPossesses me.I am thankful for my bit of skyAnd trees, and for the shiftingPageant of the seasons.Such beauty lays upon the heartA quiet.Such eternal change and permanenceTake meaning from all turmoilAnd leave serenityWhich knows no pain.