GLOAMTIDE
The shades of the gloaming around me are stealing, The lure of the dusk through the silences call,While blossoming incense comes mutely appealing, And choiring wood-voices, vespering, fall.Immersed in the deep of my dim sylvan-bower, Upborne on the breast of its emerald tide,I drift with the gleam of the vanishing hour Afar—where my uttermost longings abide.
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