58
TWILIGHT.
Flushes of love and fire, victories worth the winning,
Honor and wealth and fame, the strife and the crown of glory.
Honor and wealth and fame, the strife and the crown of glory.
So does she weave her spells, till on her sombre garments
Crushed and hidden away lie all the roses of sunset,
And a quick arrow, shot from the silver quiver of moonbeams,
Drops through the dim gray trees to tell the night approaches;
Then in her shadowy W1ngs folding the gifts she brought us,—
Dreams of the beautiful past, hopes of the beautiful future,—
Like to a dream herself departs the mystical Twilight.
Crushed and hidden away lie all the roses of sunset,
And a quick arrow, shot from the silver quiver of moonbeams,
Drops through the dim gray trees to tell the night approaches;
Then in her shadowy W1ngs folding the gifts she brought us,—
Dreams of the beautiful past, hopes of the beautiful future,—
Like to a dream herself departs the mystical Twilight.
