 | The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley |  |
1049
SEPTEMBER DARK
I
The air falls chill;The whippoorwill
Pipes lonesomely behind the hill:
The dusk grows dense,
The silence tense;
And, lo, the katydids commence.
II
Through shadowy riftsOf woodland, lifts
The low, slow moon, and upward drifts,
While left and right
The fireflies' light
Swirls eddying in the skirts of Night.
III
O Cloudland, grayAnd level, lay
Thy mists across the face of Day!
At foot and head,
Above the dead,
O Dews, weep on uncomforted!
| The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley | |