Page:Poems Craik.djvu/231

So the year laid her child to sleep,
 Her beauty half expressed;
Then slowly, slowly cleared the skies,
 And smoothed the seas to rest,
And raised the fields of yellowing corn
 O'er Summer's buried breast;

Till Autumn counterfeited Spring
 With such a flush of flowers,
His fiery-tinctured garlands more
 Than mocked the April bowers,
And airs as sweet as airs of June
 Brought on the twilight hours.

O holy twilight, tender, calm!
 O star above the sea!
O golden harvest, gathered in
 With late solemnity,
And thankful joy for gifts nigh lost
 Which yet so plenteous be;—

Although the rain-cloud wraps the hill,
 And sudden swoop the leaves,
And the year nears his sacred end,
 No eye weeps—no heart grieves:
For the reaper came rejoicing,
 Bringing in his sheaves.