 | The Poems of A. C. Benson |  |
268
AT TWILIGHT
Dear fellow-labourers, whom unseen I own,
My heart goes out towards you, in this grey
Soft hour; I wonder if you too have known,
As day succeeds to day,
My heart goes out towards you, in this grey
Soft hour; I wonder if you too have known,
As day succeeds to day,
The early sadness, slowly gathering strength,
The stillness of the long laborious noon,
The strong o'er-mastering ardour, till at length
The darkness falls too soon?
The stillness of the long laborious noon,
The strong o'er-mastering ardour, till at length
The darkness falls too soon?
The large sun drops; the vapours in his track
Roll westward, and the distant stars draw nigh;
The silent wood grows sinister and black
Against an emerald sky.
Roll westward, and the distant stars draw nigh;
The silent wood grows sinister and black
Against an emerald sky.
Now, ere the lamp's warm circle on the floor
And on these patient hands be calmly thrown,
The soul may slip unchallenged from her door,
And wander forth alone.
And on these patient hands be calmly thrown,
The soul may slip unchallenged from her door,
And wander forth alone.
I quit the land; I hoist the throbbing gear;
The shallop rocks, the seaward wind blows free,
The huge sail flaps and bellies, as I steer
Into the plunging sea;
The shallop rocks, the seaward wind blows free,
The huge sail flaps and bellies, as I steer
Into the plunging sea;
269
That lonely sea, where should some sudden sail
Gleam o'er the hissing breaker, gleam and fly,
Yet no bewildered mariner may hail,
No pilot make reply.
Gleam o'er the hissing breaker, gleam and fly,
Yet no bewildered mariner may hail,
No pilot make reply.
| The Poems of A. C. Benson | |