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TWILIGHT.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


88

TWILIGHT.

I

The Sun is leaving the western sky,
And the clouds have caught a crimson dye;
Shadows are resting on ev'ry flow'r;
Shadows are marking the twilight hour;
There are shadows haunting hill and dell,
Bidding the glorious day farewell.

II

Sweet is the hush of the dewy shade
When the curtain of day around is laid;
As the sad gleamings of love's last light
Are moments which usher in the night:
Cool is the wind o'er my faded brow,
Beamings of beauty dwell with me now.

III

Why art thou sad, oh! thou weary heart?
Altho' thy sunshine of life depart,
Are there not beauty and bloom for thee?—
Ah! no, the twilight of love must be
Like phantom pale, to wither and scare;
Dreams of bright beauty linger not there.