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The adopted daughter

and other tales
  
  
  
  

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TWILIGHT
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TWILIGHT

BY E. J. EAMES.

The holiest hour of Earth methinks is thine
O, Twilight! meekly fair. Welcome to all,
When soft and sweet, thy vestal light divine,
Over—Life's toil worn travelers doth fall.
Then the world pauses from its busy cares—
Then play-tired children say their evening prayers.
Then the lowcradle hymn the mother weaves,
The bird folds up its wing the flower its leaves.
Yea! hallowed of all hours, since the time
God's presence bless'd it in the cedar shade,—
When the leaves thrill'd with joy, tho' man afraid
Shrank from His voice, and fled the Guest Divine!
That peerless Paradise is lost, yet still
Oh, Father! let this hour be free from touch of ill!