The Conservative (Lovecraft)/October 1916/Twilight
Twilight
The ruddy sun, his garish lustre shed,
With milder radiance lights the vesper scene;
Big-looming o'er his hilly western bod.
He beams a benediction on the green.
'Tis then my spirit sweetest comfort knows;
Then that my heart has respite from its pain:
Those cares are soften'd at the day's glad close,
That burn'd, when noon's hot ardour parch'd the main.
Yon purple peaks, and lines of dark'ning hills,
An equal peace at touch of evening own;
Departing Phoebus with affection thrills,
And soothes the heights he soon must leave alone.
Adown the valley, and across the mead,
The welcome shades of gentle dusk unfold;
The lullabies of brook and crooning reed
My weary thoughts in dreamy rapture hold.
In vap'rous bow'r, just o'er th' horizon's edge.
The sun and sky enjoy a last embrace;
Recounting each, with many a solemn pledge.
Fair deeds perform'd to light the world with grace.
Then falls the blessed boon of eventide;
The fresh'ning dew a drooping earth restores;
The loveliest moments with the shadows glide;
The mortal soul in loftiest ether soars.
Now may fond Retrospection reign supreme;
Dear mem'ries surge amid the fading light;
Till the first star's uncertain, twinkling beam
Leads on th'unnumbered glories of the night.
Chester Pierce Munroe