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185
IN TWILIGHT DIM.
In twilight dim upon a spray
Chanteth a thrush at close of day:
A chilly mist pervades the air,
And all things seem of comfort bare,
But Mavis has a secret gay.
Chanteth a thrush at close of day:
A chilly mist pervades the air,
And all things seem of comfort bare,
But Mavis has a secret gay.
What gives such joyance to his lay,
And cheers him with an unseen ray,
Making the sombre woodland fair,
In twilight dim?
And cheers him with an unseen ray,
Making the sombre woodland fair,
In twilight dim?
Something the opening leaves must say,
Which lends a glow to evening grey:
Perhaps they whisper, “Have no care,
Spring's steps are echoing everywhere.”
Have we no leaves our souls to stay,
In twilight dim?
Which lends a glow to evening grey:
Perhaps they whisper, “Have no care,
Spring's steps are echoing everywhere.”
Have we no leaves our souls to stay,
In twilight dim?
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