Poems (Edwards)/Twilight Hours
TWILIGHT HOURS.
It is the soft sweet hour,The hour of holy twilight, when all thingsHave wrapped themselves in shadows. 'Tis the hourOf soothing retrospection, when the pastComes back in its rich beauty, bringing allThe scenes of "by-gone hours," all hopes, all joys,All dreams of pleasure, all regrets, all tears,All names, all recollections, and all words,All deeds, all looks, all images. Ah me!How much the past can tell us? what rebukesIt bears upon its bosom! and how muchIt warns us of the future! Twilight hoursWere made for contemplation. To my soulThey seem like dark low chambers, where my heartCan go for hushed communion, and drink in The sweet dews of reflection. Where all things,All hopes, all joys, all memories, seem to glideInto one holy, channel, and go upLike sweet incense to the Eternal. One such hourSpent in his sacred presence, far outweighsThe many hours, the days, the months, the years,Spent in search of worldly pleasures. One such hourIs worth the lifetime of a man whose thoughtsAre always bent on earth.