University of Virginia Library


72

ON THE TWILIGHT POND.

A shadowy fringe the fir-trees make,
Where sunset light hath been;
The liquid thrills to one gold flake,
And Hesperus is seen;
Our boat and we, not half awake,
Go drifting down the pond,
While slowly calls the rail, ‘Crake-crake,’
From meadow-flats beyond.
This happy, circling, bounded view
Embraces us with home;
To far worlds, kindling in the blue,
Our upward thoughts may roam;
Whence, with the veil of scented dew
That makes the earth so sweet,
A touch of astral brightness too,
A peace—which is complete.