 | The Poetical Works of Frances Ridley Havergal |  |
Twilight Voices.
(IN ILLNESS.)
What are the whispering voices
That awake at twilight fall?
Do they come from the golden sunset
With their haunting, haunting call?
They tell me of breezy spring-times,
And of dreamy summer eves,
And of snow-wreaths merrily shaken
From the shining ivy leaves.
But the far-off treble changeth
To a tenor tone, and so
I know that the voices tell me
Only of long ago.
I hear you, I hear you,
In the gentle twilight fall
Come to me, come!
With your haunting, haunting call.
That awake at twilight fall?
Do they come from the golden sunset
With their haunting, haunting call?
They tell me of breezy spring-times,
And of dreamy summer eves,
And of snow-wreaths merrily shaken
From the shining ivy leaves.
342
To a tenor tone, and so
I know that the voices tell me
Only of long ago.
I hear you, I hear you,
In the gentle twilight fall
Come to me, come!
With your haunting, haunting call.
What are the tuneful voices
That awake at early dawn?
Do they come from the orient portals
Of the palace of the morn?
They tell of a Golden City
With pearl and jasper bright,
And of shining forms that beckon
From the pure and dazzling light.
Then a rush of far-off harpings
Blends with the voices clear,
And I know that the night is passing,
And I know that the day is near!
I hear you, I hear you,
Sweet voices of the dawn!
Come to me, come!
In the early, early morn.
That awake at early dawn?
Do they come from the orient portals
Of the palace of the morn?
They tell of a Golden City
With pearl and jasper bright,
And of shining forms that beckon
From the pure and dazzling light.
Then a rush of far-off harpings
Blends with the voices clear,
And I know that the night is passing,
And I know that the day is near!
I hear you, I hear you,
Sweet voices of the dawn!
Come to me, come!
In the early, early morn.
| The Poetical Works of Frances Ridley Havergal | |